


For All Those Left Behind

by StarlightLion



Category: Naruto
Genre: Akatsuki things also happen, BAMF Sakura, But I ain't fixing shit, Canon has been eviscerated for tasty morsels and then roasted for added deliciousness, Canon-Typical Violence, Do not repost, Don't copy to another site, I would call this a fix-it fic, Kishimoto can kiss my quantum butthole, Time Travel, Timelines what are timelines, also extra violence - as a treat, for worldbuilding, history has been revoked, oh and there are ocs, the moon Hyuugas are fucking cancelled, why not
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:24:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 134,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22950178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarlightLion/pseuds/StarlightLion
Summary: Haruno Sakura has the chance to save the world.All it costs her is everything she has.
Comments: 198
Kudos: 398





	1. Prologue | Memories

**Author's Note:**

> Guess who's writing another WIP  
> It's me  
> The answer is me
> 
> Time travel! Things will get weird. The timeline is severely fucked from day one. Bear in mind that the 'original' timeline as it pertains to this fic is ALSO different from canon in some key ways. It'll eventually come out, don't worry about it.
> 
> Also violence. Lots of violence. Murderdeath. BLOOD. It's Naruto, y'all are prepared for that.  
> Let's fucking GO lads.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, a note for future reference: I have adjusted ages as necessary. This is simultaneously not actually a whole lot of adjustment and far too much adjustment. Canon makes no fucking sense whatsoever. You have been warned.

Light green eyes studied the glowing ball unblinkingly; no small amount of fear glittered within, but there was a hard edge that showed through in the sharp set of the brow above them that declared fear would not stand in the way. After a few moments, the owner lifted her eyes to meet a set of dizzying red-and-black ones.

"... Are you sure?"

Sharingan spinning furiously, the familiar triple tomoe slowly blurring into the shape of an unfamiliar Mangekyō, he nodded.

Behind them wrought an abyss of pure destruction. Where once had been forests was only spindly blackened husks and the echoing glimmer of pale flame; where once had been mountains were smouldering pits that stank of burned chakra and organic rot; where once were oceans on every horizon was only the ethereal mist, death-grey and hanging like violated cloud. The creature that had cleft the whole world in two could be heard, still, in the distance. Muted screams and howls, an unending thirst and the meagre offerings of a world that could not sate it.

She shivered, and cast green eyes down once more. Two sets of hands, hovering on opposite sides of the little orb of light. So small a thing to promise such power. Such _hope._ But below that even further - streaked crimson and splintered white amidst what once had been the chest of her friend. Nay: her brother.

Rasping, faint, almost inaudible breaths under the lingering cries of the _creature_ \- he was dying in the aftermath, and none could save him. Eye sockets leaked dribbles of blood and liquified gel. She could feel the faint current of his chakra in the air as it gushed out of open bone and naked organs.

Not long left.

"It has to be you. I have to direct the chakra; Na--"

"I know," she cut him off, glancing along the ruptured body of-- _their_ brother. She wondered, quietly, in the back of her mind, if the sight caused him such pain as it did her. "... Okay. If this doesn't work, just… Just remember that I love you." Green eyes darted down, then met red again. "Both of you."

There was a moment of silence - there was nothing to be said in response - and then she nodded again. The gesture was returned.

Ready.

_Now._

A single long second more of hesitation - she stared first at the fading breath in the body at their feet, then at the hands that held across from hers, stabilising that last lingering light. Scratched and torn, streaked in blood and filth and viscera. He was missing several fingernails. Scars, so prominent beneath the grime, old wounds that she still didn't understand and knew now she never would.

And then her own, narrow and long-fingered. Patchwork scar tissue along the knuckles where she'd learned how to truly _punch._ Blood, again, but not her own - and the thundering ache she'd all but forgotten in the gap where her left ring finger should have been. The searing residue of chakra used to cauterise and seal, instead of mend the damage.

Once more into the red-black eyes as the spinning swelled into the pinwheel shape of Mangekyō Sharingan - some parts familiar and some parts foreign - and then the burst of crimson liquid and the deep grunt of pain as chakra overflowed and blood vessels ruptured under the strain.

Whatever power they'd ever been capable of, this mad, desperate attempt at jutsu would be their last. She could only hope that the psychic instructions passed on by the Bijuu before their demise were accurate. She could only hope that it would work.

Teeth showed through cracked lips, and dribbles of blood quickly followed. Sharingan eyes screwed shut. Hands shook.

No time. _No time._

She didn't say goodbye.

For a moment, when her hands touched the ball of light, she thought they'd failed. Whiteness slipped over her, like her skin sluicing off, and then there existed nothing. No substance, no senses, no thought. There was thorough emptiness, a void that ran so deep it didn't even occur to her to question it; there was nothing, and she was nothing, and maybe she'd never been _something_ in the first place.

It could have lasted a moment. It could have lasted an eternity. There was no difference between the two. There was just white, the feeble interpretation of the infinite that was all her fragile, hollow mind had to offer in the face of it. Endless and all-consuming and-- slowly starting to drip, a white-grey-black that was none of those colours and all of them, bleeding out into itself until it was bleeding into her as well.

Molten skin. Flesh that boiled and evaporated and condensed again into acid, into the fluid that erupted up through her lungs and drowned her.

She was nothing, and she was being _made_ nothing, and not even if she'd had a voice to try could she have ever screamed enough to express it. The pain went on forever.

And then - slowly, achingly - there finally came the beginning.

* * *

The first moment that Harunos Kizashi and Mebuki began to suspect that their daughter was peculiar was - in the grand scheme - just a small thing. Sakura, too, was a small thing at the time, barely a toddler, but as frightening as the prospect was, when they walked past the ninja school and she reached both hands out - declaring, in the kind of stubborn voice that only children can, that she "Wanna!" - they wouldn't dream of discouraging her.

So it came, when the girl turned five, that they accompanied her to the initial screening stage for applicants. Unsettled, they sat the girl between them, where she kept her head down to avoid scrutiny; shy, as ever, but the faint kick of her legs and the occasional hummed note betrayed her excitement. If all they could do to support her attempt at becoming a ninja was to shield her from the stares of the Clan parents around them, then that's what they would do.

It didn't make the experience any easier, as the children always destined to be ninjas muttered between themselves and the parents shot them sour looks. Civilians were welcome - encouraged, even - to try their hand at Konoha's primary export, of course, but it rarely stopped the clans from looking down on their lack of heritage. On Sakura's other side, Mebuki took her hand and squeezed gently. The girl remained oblivious to the concerned look her parents shared over her head. Even if Sakura passed these initial screenings, the road she was choosing would remain a constant trial.

Hope came in the form of four other sets of parent-and-child. One, Kizashi was certain was a clan family; a small blonde girl and her father, wearing full shinobi kit. The girl's mother was absent, but she was happily bouncing in her seat and looking around at all her prospective classmates, clear excitement in her eyes. The father offered small smiles any time Kizashi or Mebuki caught his gaze. A second pair - a small black-haired boy half asleep between a chair and his father's lap - weren't quite so outwardly friendly, but they ignored the other clans and seemed to hold the same uninterested expression for everyone.

This father was someone Kizashi recognised, if distantly. _Nara._ Beyond the name and their association with two of the other smaller clan families - _Yamanaka_ and _Akimichi_ \- Kizashi didn't know much about them; but by the muted conversation the two fathers were holding, the assumption of their identities was a safe one.

The other two families were lone children flanked by both parents, reflections of the nerves and anxious excitement that filled the Harunos. One - a little boy with light brown hair and a lip almost bloody from the constant worrying of his teeth - was holding the hands of his mother and his father in his lap, eyes wide and trying to take in everyone at once. The friendly blonde girl sitting with her father waved at him when they made eye contact.

Quietly, Kizashi hoped that Sakura would make friends with her. It would do their shut-in daughter good to make friends, and if the girl could help Sakura learn how to be a ninja with all the advantages that came with being born into a shinobi clan, then all the better.

The last child of note was an even smaller girl with bronze-black hair and unusual copper-coloured eyes. She couldn't be older than four - too young to be here, surely - but she was whispering brightly with her two fathers, head whipping back and forth so fast between them that Kizashi worried for the girl's neck. Part of him wished that Sakura would make friends with her too, if indeed such a young child somehow passed the entrance exam today, but if he was honest it was more for the other girl's sake than for Sakura's.

But perhaps it would do her good as well, to feel as if she had a friend to protect.

For all his observations and all the exchanged glances - whether friendly or resentful - the time went by in painful, crawling quiet. None of the families spoke a word to each other; none of the children raised their voice above a whisper. Mebuki nudged him and shook her head with a sharp frown the one time Kizashi seriously considered speaking up. If not for any general interaction, or to try and offer at least some kind of basis for their kids to actually talk to one another, then at least to alleviate some of the guilt of seeing the group of clan children who had come without any parents at all.

Some, of course, he recognised easily enough despite his general detachment from the ninja world. The black hair and eyes of the Uchiha clan were only too recognisable, as were the equally dark hair and pearly white eyes of the Hyuugas. Some few others that he couldn’t name. They were called in first, one at a time, and each walked back out with the same self-assured stride they walked in with. Perhaps that only made sense; Kizashi could only wonder what they really got out of this. Did they all _want_ to become ninjas? Maybe they’d just never known anything else.

When the Nara boy was nudged awake after the call of his name - _Shikamaru_ \- he yawned, grumbled something, and padded into the examination room to the gruff encouragement of his father. Well… perhaps _encouragement_ was too kind a word for the chuckled threat of Shikamaru’s mother, but he wandered in with a sleepy pace and lumbered back out five minutes later yawning.

“Well?”

“Yeah yeah.”

His father grinned and stood to ruffle Shikamaru’s hair. With a goodbye over their shoulder tossed at the blondes seated by them, the father scooped his son into the air with one arm and wandered out. The little blonde girl - _Ino_ \- was called for next and bounced along into her exam.

A slight tug at his sleeve, and Kizashi leaned down to let his daughter whisper into his ear. What stubborn forthrightness Sakura ever showed with them alone was buried deep under her anxieties here, in a room full of kids who’d been ninja since the day they’d been born. “Do I have to go alone?” Sakura asked him quietly, tiny fingers curling tightly in his clothes. Something in his chest went _ping._

“I think so, flower, but it’ll be alright. Be brave for me?” Lying wouldn’t make it any easier for either of them. Wide green eyes stared up with a film of terror glittering within, but Sakura nodded and tucked her chin back into her chest, letting her hair shroud her face. The _ping_ turned to pride. Even if she wasn’t accepted, Kizashi was watching her do something that frightened her because she wouldn’t let that fear stop her. He couldn’t hope for anything better.

Ino came bounding back out a minute later, crowing. “I did it! Dad, I did it!!” And her father caught her out of the air and spun her, laughing, before settling her against his side.

“I knew you would,” smiled back, and Ino giggled. The girl glanced back over her father’s shoulder while they left, scanned the room with her eyes; almost no clan kids left. Nervousness showed in every tight shoulder and pinched eye.

Small hands beat a soft staccato against her father’s back. “You’ll be great, you guys!” Spoken with the absolute confidence of a child, but Sakura wasn’t the only one who glanced over. Once more Kizashi met his daughter’s gaze, and something harder stirred within.

His own anxieties came to an abrupt silence. No doubt to be had - Sakura would be great. He grinned and nudged her, and was treated to a tiny smile before a head popped out of the door and called.

“Haruno Sakura!”

Dipping his head, Kizashi nudged Sakura to her feet while Mebuki watched on. “Knock ‘em dead, flower.”

The door closed behind Sakura, and a minute went by. Two. Five.

Ten.

By the time it opened again, Kizashi felt about ready to chew his own arms off. He was prepared to sweep Sakura off her feet and praise her if she came slinking out with the sly little smile that was the only public sign of accomplishment she ever showed, and he was ready to cradle her with reassurances if she darted out to hide from disappointment. At five years old, Kizashi hadn’t yet been forced to try and figure out more complex moods and reactions from her, as he had her mother. (The faintest sign of Mebuki biting her lip was the only one she gave of how anxious she was about this too).

But Sakura walked out sedately, neither hurrying nor celebrating. Evenly measured steps; she still stumbled a little over her own feet, like always, but her shoulders were held back, her chin held up. When she spotted her parents, she _smiled_ \- happy and sad at the same time. The glance that Kizashi exchanged with Mebuki was uneasy.

“Flower?” Kizashi asked quietly as he got up to meet her and another name was called out on her heels.

But she reached up to take his hand and then stepped in to lean her head against his arm. “Hey, Dad.” Soft. No indication of whether he should celebrate or mourn. At least she didn’t resist when he picked her up.

Mebuki was stood at Kizashi’s flank in moments. “What happened, Sakura?” Same sharp tone as always, but the faintest tremor that broke on their daughter’s name. Kizashi stepped back and away from the waiting room, leading the way back out into the sunshine to escape their remaining company.

Something like confusion passed over Sakura’s face when she looked at Mebuki, as if the question didn’t quite make sense to her - and then she laughed quietly. “Oh. I got in. I’m a ninja.”

Whatever else might have been exchanged was lost in the delighted squeal that Kizashi gave; he spun around and tore a startled laugh out of Sakura, and as he immediately got started on celebrating Sakura’s victory, the oddness slowly faded and bled into excitement, and there was nothing more to speak of it.

But it didn’t stop Mebuki from worrying over it that night, when Sakura had fallen soundly asleep, quiet whispers exchanged in the dark where they lay together. It didn’t stop her from observing Sakura’s every move for a week following. Only Kizashi’s influence prevented a visit to the civilian doctor’s office to make sure - a ninja entrance exam had to be stressful. She’d probably just been in shock, he urged his wife. Sakura was fine now.

…

He caved to it, the second time. Peculiar was only one of several words that Mebuki had to say about the strange mood that overtook Sakura for most of a day, at age six, fresh home from the Academy with her first wound. _From a kunai,_ she’d said, and her voice had been oddly soft and her gaze oddly distant. Gone had been the usual slight hunch to her shoulders, the way she kept her limbs close to her body, the way she made herself small.

Any improvement in her self-confidence was welcome, but such drastic moments where it all seemed to fall away like a memory couldn’t be normal. She’d been silent the whole time, while the doctor had checked over her vitals, and then offered concise answers to each question asked of her, words that Kizashi had never taught her and a tone that he’d never heard. There was no hesitation to it, no reluctance. A faint half-smile - _bemused,_ almost - and a subtle strength of character that Kizashi had always hoped she’d learn but knew wasn’t hers.

Given the all-clear hadn’t relieved the unease of either parent, but they’d taken her for anmitsu at her request and by the time evening had rolled around, she’d seemed perfectly normal again.

Whatever they were teaching her at the Academy, maybe it was just having a positive effect. Sakura wasn’t free of those moments - eerie calm and subdued self-assurance - but each time she came through happy and unscathed, and eventually her parents merely accepted her peculiarities.

So, for all that Sakura was so strange, her parents remained ever the same.

* * *

The first time Ino ever saw Sakura change was during their third year at the Academy. Fast friends from the moment Ino had defended the shy girl from their annoying boy classmates, she was utterly unprepared for it. Complaining under their breaths about ‘kunoichi class’ was old hat, and at some point Ino had started to like it for real instead of just for pretend. There was something great about the subtle ways to change her face, or the way to pick her clothes that said whatever she wanted it to.

Weaving flowers into jewellery held much the same allure, even if there lay a shadow of sadness over the activity; each flower was like a little gem, and every time Ino snapped their stems to add to her own beauty, she was condemning them to die. Saying such a thing to Sakura hadn’t been done to try and make her sad too - Ino expected to get a quiet agreement and maybe a pout, but instead Sakura hummed quietly.

When Ino looked up at her, it almost didn’t seem like her anymore. Same pink hair, tied with the ribbon that marked the start of their friendship, effectively narrowing her forehead, and the same green eyes that pondered the flowers in her hands; clumsier than Ino’s, or at least Ino had thought. Sakura almost looked like Rei-sensei, weaving each stem around the last with precise motions.

Their gazes met for a moment, and Sakura’s hands stilled. A shrug. A soft smile. “A flower’s life is fleeting anyway,” Sakura told her. There was something wrong with her voice. “They don’t lose much when we pick them, and we can gain lots. A little bad for a lot of good. We don’t need to be sad about that.”

And she’d gone back to weaving, and come out of the lesson top of the class.

…

The next time it happened, Ino took it in stride. Older, now, almost eight, and nigh on inseparable. If Ino hadn’t known forever that she was going to graduate to a team with Shikamaru and Chōji, she’d have thought that Sakura would be the best teammate. There were lots of things about Sakura that Ino found weird - they were very different people, her dad said - but all of them were her friend.

So when they were relaxing in the classroom one early winter morning, quietly working away on their chakra theory tasks, and Sakura suddenly put down her pencil, Ino just followed suit. “You okay, ‘kura?”

Distantly familiar, the way Sakura smiled at her, the way her eyes crinkled slightly at the corners, but still Sakura. “Yeah. I’m okay.” Softer than usual. Shyness had slowly grown into outspokenness under Ino’s tutelage, but this was… private.

Just for her.

Ino put her hands in her lap, and gave Sakura her full attention. “... I just wanted to tell you how much you mean to me, Ino.” A blink. “You’re my best friend. You’re amazing.” A waver, and Sakura’s gaze dipped for a moment. Was she trying not to cry? What had happened? Ino’s hand went to Sakura’s wrist and squeezed, and the smile she got in return was all the reassurance she needed. “Just remember that I’ll always be here if you need me. Alright?”

“I know.” Ino poked her in the forehead, and Sakura laughed. “So ‘kura… I really need the answer to number nine.”

* * *

Itachi had never met the girl before, but an Academy student marching into the Uchiha Compound demanding to see him was outlandish enough without that student being _civilian-born_ to boot. Taking the time out to humour such ridiculousness made his skin crawl, even with Shisui’s words ringing in his ears: _“What harm could it do? Relax for a few moments. And tell me everything afterwards.”_

Well, he’d never been any good at telling Shisui no.

So here he stood, in the bright-weathered afternoon, secluded at the edge of the Uchiha’s little lake, trying not to think about all the flickering chakra presences attempting to eavesdrop. The girl couldn’t be more than seven years old, pastel pink hair tied up in a ruthless ponytail to keep it out of the way, turning a shuriken (definitely stolen from the Academy) over and over in her hands.

There was desperation in her eyes as she looked up at Itachi, and he tried not to see it. He couldn’t worry about the civilians or the Academy students - couldn’t think about how many of them might die if the threatening Uchiha coup came to pass. He couldn’t bear to wander down that road right now, to follow those thoughts where they led to Danzō whispering in his ear and the slowly building list of horrible potential alternatives that he was offering. Couldn’t--

 _No._ He couldn’t. Focus on the girl. Besides, he had a duty to report back to Shisui after this - that was where his attention, in this moment, needed to be.

The girl glanced around herself uneasily, as if she too could sense the fluttering touch of not-completely-masked chakra signatures. Then looked up at him directly again. “... Do you know any jutsu to shield our speech?” An edge to her voice, frustration perhaps. Her fingers twitched around her half-blunt shuriken, the potential of handsigns and the barely restrained urge to use them.

Perhaps Itachi was _right_ to be uneasy. For a moment - just a flash - as he put his hands together and moulded his chakra into the wind element to help mute their conversation to outsiders, he ignited his Sharingan. A chakra cloud under her skin, so pale blue it was almost white, but small and billowy like all ninja children. There was nothing suspect about her nature, no sign of henge or other manipulations.

It wasn’t a foolproof caution, but in the middle of a small townlet full of Uchihas who would have studied her journey from entrance to lake, it would have to do. Her brow crinkled.

“Do I pass?”

Silence for a moment. _She’d seen._ Even Fugaku didn’t always catch the split-second flicker of red in Itachi’s eyes. Sometimes he even fooled _Shisui._ “... You asked for me, I believe.”

In a moment, her expression turned from scrutiny to fear. Not of him, though; she took a step closer to him, didn’t seem deterred when he leaned back slightly. Whatever she was afraid of, it wasn’t him - it sparkled in green eyes as tension swept her tiny body _(smaller than Sasuke)_ and spilled out in the ever-present rotation of the shuriken in her hands. “You can’t do it, Itachi.” Almost… _familiarity_ in her voice, when she spoke. _Who the fuck is this girl?_ “Please.” Voice caught. Almost angrily, she scrubbed at her eyes to waylay what must be tears. Then she shook herself, leaned back slightly, let Itachi relax minutely.

“What are you talking about?” Itachi held his voice carefully neutral - there was no way to know what she meant, and perhaps she didn’t even know. Suspicion coiled in his throat. Sasuke wasn’t one to organise pranks, but he wasn’t the only young Uchiha in the Academy, and plenty of their cousins would stoop so low.

The girl made a torn sound. “The coup.” Itachi’s blood froze. “I know it’s bad, but whatever Danzō tells you, please, you can’t do it. Stopping the coup won’t save Konoha.” It was hard even to _breathe_ while she kept talking, her voice oddly echoey in his ears.

The coup.

Danzō.

Things she couldn’t know - she couldn’t **possibly** know - and yet when he let the Sharingan light his eyes again and studied her, longer this time, openly, he still could find no hint of subterfuge about her. He could feel his heart crashing against his ribs.

The girl looked back into the Sharingan without even a sliver of fear. Not of him. “... Whatever he tells you, it won’t save Sasuke.” Her voice caught on the name.

Itachi had reacted before he could even think to control it, a full body flicker and the silent draw of a kunai. A faint gasp - just the smallest inhalation - as she registered that he was standing behind her now, that the cold kiss of a blade at her throat was a very real threat. To her credit, she didn’t flinch. Stock still, back stiff, the shuriken still moving point over point in agitated fingers, but she kept her chin lifted and held her position at Itachi’s mercy.

“Who sent you?” Hissed. _Stop. Get control._ She wasn’t a threat to Sasuke, not here, not now. Whatever game this was, whoever _could_ be a threat to Sasuke, she would know.

Her voice was deceptively steady; he could feel the gentle tension of her pulse fluttering against the edge of his blade. “No one. I can’t… explain. But you can’t do it, Itachi. Whatever he says. You won’t fix anything - you’ll make it all worse.” A moment of silence, as Itachi struggled to divorce himself from the seething panic. If _she_ knew, if some unknown civilian girl who’d never even been a _blip_ on Itachi’s radar knew so much, then he couldn’t hope to have hidden it from Fugaku. From the Clan.

There was no point in even denying it. She wasn’t guessing - she _knew._ “I will give you one more chance to tell me who sent you.” There went her heart rate, spiking up, and she couldn’t quell a whimper as the warmth of her blood seeped out onto Itachi’s kunai. The narrowest cut, and the shuriken clattered to the ground barely a moment before she clenched her fists. Sharingan alight, Itachi saw clearly the swell of chakra that gathered there; no definition to the sight, no paths where her chakra flowed as he understood the Byakugan to show, but he could see it condense.

A second later she breathed out and her chakra settled back into an inactive, amorphous cloud. Her hands opened and went to her sides. Fingers twitched, and shoulders quivered, but she still didn’t flinch away. Didn’t cry or attempt to escape. Despite himself, Itachi felt a flicker of respect for the child. “I promise you, nobody else sent me. Nobody else knows.” A protracted moment of silence, like a bubble within the lazily weaving jutsu still muting their conversation to prying ears. “If there’s a way I can prove I’m telling the truth, I’ll do it.”

She couldn’t know what she was offering, of course, couldn’t possibly understand what Itachi was capable of. _What exactly am I capable of?_ Would he kill her, a child not older than Sasuke himself, if it came to it? Just to excise the possibility of a threat to his brother?

The reality that he was considering it was nauseating.

“Don’t move.” An order, as he stepped around to face her again; his kunai slid from one grip to another with the ease of an oiled ball through water, and the point licked the soft flesh under her chin. She lifted it slightly, caught her breath, but she didn’t reach up to the shallow cut weeping down her neck, and she didn’t look away from Itachi’s gaze.

Another moment of silence stretched out. The genjutsu hovering in Itachi’s grasp was unimaginably cruel to subject a child to - and yet the girl stared back defiantly. Desperation shone in the corners of her expression still, some drive that had brought her here that overrode even her own sense of self-preservation. Maybe she didn’t believe that he would hurt her - maybe she didn’t care.

Maybe it was a risk she’d knowingly chosen to take.

Her voice didn’t shake. “Do whatever you need to. I’ve been through worse.”

Something small and vital collapsed in Itachi’s chest. Perhaps she was just an extremely talented liar, but such blanket confidence didn’t come without a grain of truth. She was just a civilian, no older than Sasuke. Whatever had happened to her that had ended with her here, standing almost calmly with Itachi’s kunai at her throat, could have happened to Sasuke.

He cast the genjutsu.

Shadows and colours blurred past them as senses nosedived into a false reality, flickering memories that flashed by while Itachi forged the chakra connection to hold the girl’s mind in the steadfast grip of his own. Narrow mental halls that he held back and private, keeping all the parts of his mind that would hurt her separate from the genjutsu itself. Her mental form coalesced, and a fraction of a second later they stood together on an endless plane of what might be water, or what might be glass, with a black sky stretching out around them.

In her own mind, the girl was older than she appeared. Taller. Her hair was cut short and swept up by a Konoha-nin hitai-ate; the crimson fabric that held it was a splash of colour matched only by Itachi’s eyes. She held herself tall, shoulders back. A small diamond - washed black - coloured the spot between her eyes. What it was for, in her self-perception, was beyond Itachi’s intuition; his blazing Sharingan offered no insight to her chakra movements or abilities here. They were nothing but mental constructs.

“Who are you?” Itachi settled on first, risking only brief glances into the mirrored surface they stood upon. Below them, the girl’s mind stretched out like a labyrinth - completely black sections marked off the walls she was protecting her own mind with. Unease crawled down Itachi’s back. No mere child should be capable of shielding entire swaths of thought from him, no matter how talented she might be.

She stretched, and when she spoke her voice was almost cheerful. Confident - more comfortable in this surreal body than in her real one. “My name is Haruno Sakura.” She looked around, and then studied the depths at their feet. “... Even knowing how powerful you are, this is… an incredible genjutsu. It’s absolutely seamless.”

Eyes narrowed, and Itachi took a step closer. Sakura’s gaze was back on him instantly, but after a moment she just smiled at him.

“I’m sorry. I guess… I can actually speak freely here. This isn’t the first time I’ve met you.” _Impossible._ Before Itachi could voice a protest, she took a step sideways and tapped her foot; one of the black sections of her mind flashed white, and then swelled up around them. the water-glass ballooned and then shattered, and a moment later Itachi felt his insides clench up as memories fell about them and shot through. The specifics were hard to gather, as unprepared as he was for the assault, but the essence of them was clear.

Unfamiliar red-white-black attire, a cold and distant expression, certainly older than he was now, but the face was his own. She’d met him… before? She… _would_ meet him? Moments pulsed around him like light seared into his vision; Sasuke as a genin pinned against the wall with Itachi’s hand at his throat; heated combat with a blond that he didn’t recognise; sparks flashing as kunai met kunai and he fought-- older, but that was definitely _Kakashi._

He staggered.

A gentle hand on his shoulder steadied him, ephemeral and barely tangible, like tepid water. Further visions winked out around them; himself, again, older and unnaturally pale, fine cracks in his skin like flawed porcelain. Fighting enemies he didn’t recognise; fighting back to back with an adult Sasuke who was so wrong - so _angry--_

Things began to puddle around them, memories bleeding into each other until Itachi couldn’t keep up. When he pulled away from Sakura, he threw up mental shields against her mind, quarantining her thoughts - _memories?_ \- until all that he could touch of her was the mental projection standing quietly a few feet away, watching him with sad compassion.

“I… didn’t mean to show you all that. I’m sorry. That was cruel.”

The implications silenced him for a long minute, getting his footing back. _Cruel._ Exactly what he’d thought he was being to her, and yet without even trying she had overwhelmed him in his own jutsu. Granted, he hadn’t been prepared to defend against her - he’d been arrogant, underestimated her because she was a child, and in a way this was fair consequence. Still, he was cautious in meeting her eyes when he finally focused back on her. “Explain.”

She hesitated. Then, nodding to herself, she spread her arms and let the full construct of her mind rise up around them, a complex maze of hallways and cracked glass towers. Images flickered in every reflection, blurry and relentless. “There’s a lot,” she warned.

Itachi cast his eyes over the vast array - more than any seven year old should display. If she was lying, or making this up, then she deserved the victory over him. It was dangerous to lower his defences again, to let her guide him through her head, but at the very least the danger was limited to himself. Letting the issue go, letting her simply walk away when he didn’t know how she’d learned about the impending coup, was a risk to everyone.

To Sasuke.

“I am prepared.”

It was a lie. But at least, by the end of it, he understood.

…

He found Shisui exactly where he expected to; lounging under a tree by the cliff that held the Hokage monument. Cloud-gazing.

“Hey, Itachi,” he greeted warmly, without looking away from the sky. Itachi had been silent in his approach, he was sure, but then again it surely didn’t matter. Shisui was the most powerful Uchiha in several generations.

Cold steel clamped down around Itachi’s heart.

He couldn’t find it within him to respond, but he didn’t try to hide the choking wetness in his eyes as he came close and sat down in the grass at Shisui’s side. _How long left…?_ At this, Shisui looked around - and sat up as he took in the blank shock in Itachi’s face, the glistening streaks running from black eyes to narrow jaw. “Itachi?” A gentle hand laid over his, and without thinking Itachi curled his fingers and gripped as hard as he could. Shisui didn’t even flinch. “What’s wrong?” Itachi shook his head. How could he tell Shisui any of it? He had no right to ask such a burden of him - but Shisui merely squeezed back and offered him a rueful smile. “You know I’ll get it out of you eventually.”

There was truth to that. Of everyone, Shisui was the only one Itachi never managed to hold a secret from. Why else would he have come here in the first place? A slight nudge from shoulder to shoulder almost rocked Itachi over, but Shisui’s grip kept him seated. Cajoling, like he always was.

But where could he even start?

“I’m a failure.”

It came out jagged, almost a snarl that took Itachi so off guard he clenched his teeth together again. _I am a failure._ Or he would be a failure. What difference did it make? And not just a failure, but a monster - a beast of unimaginable malice.

His future was a cursed path, and he had cursed all who’d crossed it.

Shisui frowned, and shifted to sit more closely at Itachi’s side; laid an arm across Itachi’s shoulders and looked back out over Konoha. Even as far as it sprawled, the village seemed so small from up here. “Well, I know _that’s_ not true, but tell me about it. What happened? Was it Fugaku?” Only the faintest edge in Shisui’s voice there. If Itachi had known him any less well, he’d not have noticed it.

“No.” It hurt to choke out the word. _Gods._ He deserved it to hurt; it couldn’t possibly hurt any worse than the things he’d inflicted in Sakura’s memories.

Shisui hummed. “Well, there’s still plenty of daylight. You can tell me when you’re ready.”

And for a long time, they just sat and watched Konoha writhe about below, their collective silence almost as warm as the sunlight. When, finally, Itachi found the courage to speak, his tears were long dry and their shadows stretched out behind them like the looming future, but even as everything began to spill out and Itachi felt himself lose control of it, like a flood dam breaking, Shisui remained quiet.

Itachi was panting softly by the end of it, hands tight in his own sleeves, arms crossed defensively over his knees where they pressed against his chest. Surely Shisui couldn’t ignore the horrors he had - he _would_ \- wrought. If the elder Uchiha believed him at all, then surely their friendship was finally over.

But all he did was hum quietly through a deep frown, and then sigh. His arm remained warm around Itachi’s shoulders.

This new silence was more than Itachi could bear. Tremulous, but he kept his eyes fixed blindly on Konoha. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop that,” came the response; soft. Not angry. Not even disappointed. It rattled against the sick empty feeling in Itachi’s chest. “If this Sakura was telling you the truth - and if she’s convinced you, then I believe you - _you_ haven’t done any of those things. What she told you was another person. Another lifetime. You haven’t made any of those decisions.”

Shock bled into what Itachi reluctantly identified as fear. Of everything… _that_ was what Shisui took away from it? Meeting Itachi’s stunned stare, Shisui just offered him another painful smile. “But…”

But there was so much. And Shisui-- _Oh gods,_ why had he told Shisui about--

“There’s something I can do for you, if you’d allow it.”

Do for… Shisui wanted to _help_ him. Something sharp and painful tried to claw its way out of Itachi’s throat.

“... I can’t make you forget, but I can lock away these memories from your conscious mind.” The offer rang in Itachi’s ears like an echo. “This isn’t a burden you need to carry, Itachi.” Even softer than before. Thin red filigree was weaving into Shisui’s eyes, faint curls that blossomed into Sharingan like scarlet flowers.

“I… But I…”

Shisui smiled. “I won’t let you make those mistakes, but you can’t live your whole life in fear of them. You’re an exceptional person. Do you trust me?”

It wasn’t even a question. “Of course.” _But that doesn’t matter._ There were some debts Itachi could never pay back.

Red and black swirled together until Itachi couldn’t look away from the pinwheels they became, like little shurikens in Shisui’s eyes. _What is he…?_ The tendrils of chakra that slipped through Itachi’s shattered defences and began sifting through his mind were so gentle that they didn’t even feel invasive; chakra built a faint glow in Shisui’s left eye, and there was a moment where everything seemed to stop.

…

Itachi took a sharp breath, lungs burning, and blinked. Something was very wrong. He felt wrung out, more exhausted than he’d ever been; in the evening sun, Shisui was sitting by him with blood dribbling down his face from one eye, but as Itachi tried to grab for what could be going on, flaring out chakra as thinly as he could to try and detect anomalies around them, Shisui let out a low chuckle.

“Chill, Itachi. You look like crap; how about we just… take a nap?”

Appealing. Too appealing, Itachi thought, but even a brief flash of his Sharingan made his chakra levels sink like a stone in water; he couldn’t quite stifle a yawn. Shisui didn’t even try - shifted ever so slightly away and lay down with his eyes closed, head cushioned comfortably on his arms.

… Maybe it couldn’t hurt. Even asleep, no one would be able to sneak up on Shisui and Itachi both. And they were in Konoha - as safe as they ever were. Nagging doubt lingered at the back of his mind, something insistent and heavy; something… _wrong._

The Uchiha coup, no doubt. It was like a storm cloud on the horizon, a persistent nightmare that he couldn’t shake. A shinigami’s shadow. But it would wait. There was still time before anyone made a move.

So Itachi stretched out, settled on his side, and followed Shisui’s example.

* * *

Formulating the genin teams and which jōnin would lead them was an annual task that Tsunade found both delightful and utterly tedious. Currently, tedious was winning; there would be an awful lot more delight if Shizune wasn’t leaning over her shoulder and critiquing the more fun compositions. Thus far the most fun Shizune hadn’t immediately vetoed was giving Ino-Shika-Chō to their brand new (and youngest) jōnin.

“Don’t put those two together; they won’t learn anything from each other.”

Tsunade twisted in her seat to fix Shizune in a baleful stare. “You do remember that I am the Hokage?”

“Yes, Tsunade-sama.”

“And that I have the authority to have you thrown out on your arse?”

“Yes, Tsunade-sama.”

“And that you’re really getting on my last nerve?”

“Yes, Tsunade-sama.”

Tsunade rolled her eyes and turned back to her paperwork. “Why I ever put up with you…” With the ease of long experience, Shizune hummed a completely non-descript note and tapped the back of her pen on the paper.

“If I might make a suggestion…”

And the drudgery of it went on, but eventually they’d settled on something resembling a team lineup. At least it would be fun watching the jōnin squirm when she gave these assignments to them. Still, as Shizune wouldn’t allow her to forget, these were only the first drafts - there would be hours more of dithering over the compatibility of the genin and the scope of their prospective sensei’s abilities. If she was lucky, it would be hours of gleeful drinking while watching Shizune do all that work only to - most likely - land back on the same compositions they’d settled on here. All the same--

The door to her office opened, and a chūnin stuck their head in. “Uh-- Hokage? There’s a-- uh… Academy student here asking to see you.”

At her flank, Shizune frowned. “The Hokage is busy - tell them to--”

“Fuck no,” Tsunade interrupted; a gentle flick to the arm sent Shizune staggering. “Send the kid in. Anything to forget about this crap for a minute.”

It earned her a deep frown from her assistant, but the chūnin nodded quickly and ducked back out. A minute later, the door opened again and the student walked in; recognition told Tsunade that she was twelve years old, about to graduate. Haruno Sakura. A difficult student to place indeed - no clan background which meant that she had no pre-existing biases or specialities, but too much of a high achiever to slot to a team at random.

Also far too shy of a girl to be walking into the Hokage’s office uninvited and on her own, if Shizune’s profiles were accurate, and they always were.

Her eyes went wide as she walked in, stumbling slightly as she stared in shock. Perhaps taken aback by her own brashness now that she was here? Well, nothing for it - she’d never find out if she didn’t ask.

Not a moment after Tsunade had drawn the breath to speak, Sakura beat her to it. “Tsunade-sensei?” Weak-voiced, stumbling forward another step; suspicion set Tsunade’s back stiff in her seat. She’d never been anyone’s _sensei._

“I’m told you’re a student at the Academy.” Colder than she’d intended, especially when just a moment ago she’d believed the girl to be a welcome reprieve.

Sakura’s eyes went even wider, and she seemed to catch herself. Stood up straighter, put her hands at her back at ease. Her form was exceptional for someone not yet even a genin. “I- I’m sorry, Hokage.” An edge of panic there. Tsunade narrowed her eyes. “I know I shouldn’t have intruded on your time, but… I wanted to make a request.” A pause, breathless hope, and then an uncomfortable fidget as Tsunade only continued to study her in silence. Shizune took her cue and remained silent, but Tsunade could feel her eyes glancing between the two of them. “About… About my genin training.”

At this, Tsunade arched an eyebrow. “Genin training? You haven’t even graduated yet, girl.”

“I will.” There was absolute confidence in her tone. As suspicious as she’d made herself, Tsunade couldn’t help the bark of laughter. At least she wasn’t lacking balls. Shizune really had missed the mark on this kid.

“Alright, out with it. What do you want?” She might as well humour the girl while she was here before having her thoroughly investigated.

Sakura licked her lips nervously, but she didn’t look away. “I want to be trained by K-- Hatake Kakashi.”

For a protracted moment, there was silence. It popped like a bubble in reverse as Tsunade burst into laughter, heavy howling noises that bounced around them while she smacked the table. Shizune bit her lip, but refrained from saying anything - Sakura took a step back, but then she relaxed and a slight smile played about her mouth. “You have got the biggest balls I’ve ever _seen!”_ Tsunade managed through her mirth, shaking her head. “Fucking student trying to pick their own sensei…” In her years as Hokage, she’d never had a kid walk in with anything quite so outrageous. “You audacious little brat.” Grinned.

“Does that mean--”

“Out,” Tsunade ordered her. She was still showing her teeth, although it wasn’t quite clear anymore whether it was amused or wolfish. “You’ll get whoever I damn well please for a mentor. Get back to your lessons.”

Already stepping away to leave - good girl - but Sakura lifted a finger and seemed to weigh her options. “Actually, I’ve already completed today’s syllabus.” And she slipped back out the door to the sound of Tsunade’s renewed guffaws. It took quite some time for them to die down.

When, eventually, they did, Shizune gave her a critical frown. “Tell me that you aren’t thinking of humouring her,” she said with an edge of resignation in her voice. Tsunade simply smiled back. “We’d have to restructure all the teams again!”

“Shizune. I’m sending you to investigate her. Make sure she’s all above board.” The forced serious note in Tsunade’s voice had Shizune hesitating. “And then, when she passes your check, she’s going into Kakashi’s team.” There was no question. Anyone who had the sheer grit to stroll into Tsunade’s office and choose her own sensei before she was even a genin was damn well going to get her way.

Shizune sighed, and in her arms Tonton oinked much the same sentiment.

“Yes, Tsunade-sama.”


	2. Come, Camaraderie, in All Your Colours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sakura wakes, and learns that not all change is good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things that I forgot to mention in the first chapter:  
> || When I say that Sakura's original timeline is already different from canon, I don't just mean the timeline over the course of the anime or how events, character motivations, and all that sort of thing went. I mean that I've also fundamentally changed the history of the Naruto universe. It's very drastic. Kishimoto can kiss my arse.  
> || There are many other things I've changed. Amongst them is the Rinnegan - both the scope of the Rinnegan's power, how it functions, and where it comes from/how one acquires Rinnegan. Yes, obviously, there are going to be people with Rinnegan. These changes are... incredibly drastic, if I'm honest. I've basically rebuilt the thing from the ground up using Kishi's version as inspiration.  
> || On that note but not _necessarily_ related: I've mucked about with the Byakugan some too. That said, the Byakugan you're familiar with is still very much present.  
> || Orochimaru actually has some sort of coherent character motivation and story arc. His impact isn't going to be a) **fuck up Sasuke as much as possible** and b) **die.**  
>  || Yeah, I'm not kidding about the OCs. For the most part, they're there to fill out the universe because like hell the whole of Konoha is run by like twelve genin and four jōnin.  
> || There's going to be a spot of wish fulfilment here and there. It's fanfic, what else am I gonna do with it. I am just as weak as the rest of you LMAO
> 
> Other things that matter:  
> || The upload schedule! I currently have absolutely zero backlog for this, so look forward to that - but my current aim is to publish each chapter within two weeks of the previous one. If my study gets to be a bit more than I can handle with that, it'll become one month after the last one.  
> || Also these are betaread by the amazing [ClockworkSirius](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClockworkSirius)
> 
> Onto the show!!

The world that Sakura awoke to, when everything finally bled back together, was very different to the one she’d left behind.

Before anything else came sensation; the muted hum of voices on all sides, the steady warmth of a summer day only faintly eased by a breeze. It was dizzying, and once she realised that she had eyes again, she kept them scrunched up against the flood of sensory input. Right under her nose she could smell the faintly sweet scent of varnished wood, and beyond that was the heavy miasma of a room full of bodies. That would account for the voices she couldn’t quite pick apart yet, so Sakura tried to put down those things and narrow her senses to what was immediately relevant.

The slight irritating rub against her skin told her she was wearing something light with short sleeves, and tight leggings underneath that ended in a faint band of pressure above her knees. Shoes that cut off at the ankle, snug and warm but not constricting; toes were uncovered and free to be wiggled. Another deep breath and she felt the weight against her back that said her hair was down today, just as long and pretty as she ever tried to kee----

Her eyes flew open. _I haven’t had long hair since--_

At the front of the room was a man that she hadn’t ever hoped to see again, reading through a few sheafs of paper with a small frown. Dark hair swept into a scruffy ponytail, Iruka-sensei was regarding whatever he was reading as if it was dissatisfactory.

Slowly, Sakura looked around the room. The voices sharpened into words, but she let them pass over her meaninglessly, too absorbed in reading their faces. Young faces; still bright and round and hopeful. For too long, she simply basked in the sight. Ino, Shikamaru, Chōji - all sitting together on the far side of the room and talking in hushed, excited tones. Ino and Chōji appeared to be arguing over Shikamaru’s dozing head. And further down, Hinata - _oh gods, Hinata_ \- tugging anxiously on her hair in silence, twisting around and around her fingers.

Shino, sitting near the back by himself, reading a book.

More, kids that she remembered the faces of but not the names, students that had been largely lost to her as her own life had progressed. A few kids that she didn’t recognise at all; two students sat near - but not next to - Hinata, whom she studied for a moment. Dark hair and light skin, the glimpse of white eyes as they joked to each other that confirmed them as Hyuugas; branch family, presumably, but as here and present in the Academy as Hinata. _What…?_ What rule had been relaxed by the Clan Head to allow it, and why?

Her breath stopped when she caught sight of the knot of black heads gathered at the front of the room on her side. Fully five of them, arrayed in a variety of high-collared shirts, spiky black hair in five distinctly different messy styles. Black eyes flashed in and out of sight as they argued, heads turning back and forth as they spoke over one another. On each of their backs lay a Clan symbol with a line slashed through in a low semi-circle. Red on top and white on the bottom - like an open fan.

_Uchihas._

_There are more Uchihas._

Amongst their bickering rose a voice that cut through the air like hurled kunai, agonisingly familiar and yet somehow different. Sasuke twitched his gaze back to one of his fellows and cut her off, shaking his head sharply.

Sasuke.

 _Sasuke’s here. He’s home. He’s_ **_safe._ **

She couldn’t even pick out his words, but relief collapsed in her chest like a cave-in and she slumped back in her seat like she’d been suckerpunched, closing her eyes against the sting of tears. They welled and spilled over her cheeks all the same. She was in their classroom. They weren’t even genin yet.

Sasuke was safe.

She’d made it.

_It worked._

Even as relief turned to thunder in her body, the tears she didn’t even try to stop streaking down and staining the collar of her qipao dress, something ice cold and crushing rose up underneath it. Sasuke was safe; but _her_ Sasuke was gone. Her friends were gone. None of these children knew her, or what she had to prevent. Her Sasuke was dead - her Ino was dead - her Naruto was--

The whole table shook as she shot to her feet, eyes going wide again, and scanned the classroom desperately. _Naruto._ She couldn’t hear the obnoxious snap of his voice, or spot the shock of blond hair. Whatever was in her chest coiled and tightened.

“Sakura?” called a voice, familiar and concerned-- her gaze darted towards it, and found Ino on her feet and coming over, concern shining over blue over a friendship that Sakura had thought she’d lost _years_ ago--

The whole room lurched, and she heard her name again in Iruka-sensei’s voice as pain cracked up her thigh. _Knee. Slammed it on the seat._ Distant observation that ran through her thoughts without prompt, a second nature that kept tabs on her surroundings. That same detached part of her idly noted that Ino was holding her shoulders - keeping her from collapse - and Iruka had body flickered up to the seat beside her. They were talking to her, trying to get her to respond.

She should. The rest of her was lost to a vortex of spinning colour, stomach boiling as all strength went out of her, but it nagged; she should respond to them. Breathing was almost impossible, but she tried to suck one in - opened her mouth to force out some kind of words, some kind of acknowledgement--

Ribcage convulsed and diaphragm contracted and all at once Sakura vomited; Ino shrieked but didn’t let go, and Iruka’s hands were tight on her shoulders. Another distant voice sounded up - _“Sakura?!”_ \- and it was so familiar that she reached for it. It would be okay. She’d made it. He was safe.

_Where was Naruto?_

She’d done it. **They’d** done it.

Darkness came.

* * *

Her second awakening was entirely more gentle than her first. Her senses had the decency not to spin away from her, and as her thoughts slowly solidified from scattered dreams into something coherent, she was able to sift through them. The dreams were blurry and haunting, and yet unlike normal dreams they weren’t fading away. More like distant memories that she didn't recognise.

She’d been a child, tiny and uncoordinated, applying for entry to the Academy. Slightly older, getting a check-up with a doctor. Amusement lingered around the edges of that one - how familiar she was with the examination. Unconnected fragments around Ino, moments in time that she had always wished had gone differently, that had become malleable in the dream and folded for those wishes.

Itachi had been in one of them. Another wish that had lingered uselessly in her heart; to somehow prevent the massacre of the Uchiha clan. To somehow _save_ everyone she loved from the destruction that had flowed in its wake.

More moments, luxuriating in the time when it was just her parents and the comfort of being small enough for her father to cradle in his arms again. She missed his hugs more fiercely than she’d ever thought she could. Hinata - bereft of the hard-won strength Sakura recognised, small and scared and weak again; as many soft words as Sakura had been able to spare, as much encouragement as she could shove into something so simple. Academy moments - talking to Sasuke for real, instead of standing at a distance and fantasising about a person who didn’t really exist and never would. Talking to Ino about boys and steering away from competition. Choosing her friend over her infantile desires.

On and on and on.

Slowly, the dreams settled into place, and wove outwards like a map of stars, each pinpoint a new dream, a new memory, something familiar and different at the same time. Some were subtle - a different word here, a different lesson there, days later on spent with friends instead of alone. Sparing small defiant Naruto a kind word instead of a sneer. Some were so vastly different that she had trouble leaving them be. Laughing with Ino while helping her with the flower shop. Chasing Sasuke across the shinobi training grounds as fast as she could, and calling him names when he slowed down to accommodate her.

Itachi showing up at her house, one horrible night, smeared with blood and carrying a terrified Sasuke while behind them the shouts turned to screaming and the sky lit up with chakra.

Naruto vanishing from the Academy, and nobody ever saying a thing about it.

Strange dreams, spreading and encompassing her like thick honey, snaring each thought until it was hard to distinguish them from her memories, all the stupid things they’d done as kids, the quiet agony Sasuke had endured in solitude, the shrill terror Sakura had taken so many years to shake, the endless abuse from adults who should have known better than to blame a child for their problems.

Maybe those were the dreams, really… Naruto had never made it to advanced classes. He’d never shown up after the Konoha Massacre, after--

All at once, Sakura sat up. Eyes wide, taking a shaking breath, chakra surging to crackle just under her skin. _Dreams._ But they weren’t dreams. She’d made it, on her brothers’ final, desperate gamble. She was back, before everything broke, before the world was set on its course to destruction.

She’d woken up, finally - _late_ \- and they weren’t dreams, they were… moments. Fragments of her mind, scattered back through her own lifetime like ashes. The leftovers peeking through. _Oh gods, they’re memories._ And more, the clashing spiral of events that ran parallel to the ones she knew.

“Sakura? Easy. You’ll hurt yourself.”

Familiar. Too familiar.

Standing nearby, as if he’d been leaning against the wall a minute before, black eyes focused on her, hair swept back into the familiar spiky cloud, like tail feathers - a face she never thought she’d see again, unmarred by hatred, unmarred by the betrayal of his brother’s final secret.

Something in Sakura’s brain went _click,_ and all her carefully honed self-control fled. _“Sasuke,”_ she choked out, and then her voice fled too in the eruption of an exhausted sob.

She had the chance to change the world. All it had cost her was everything she had.

Sakura wasn’t sure how long she cried for, but there was quickly an arm around her shoulders for her to lean into, and the awkward sometimes-patting of her back trying to offer comfort. They remained, a steady presence at her side, and slowly she managed to get control of herself again, wails fading into sobs into whimpers into sniffles. To her surprise, when she could see again, it was Hinata seated next to her on the Academy infirmary bed, an arm around her shoulders and worried eyes on her face. Gratitude welled up in her chest, something warm and slow and soothing in the aftermath of grief.

“Sorry, Hinata.” Pushed out softly, a whisper that betrayed a hoarseness she hadn’t anticipated. However painful it felt to contort her cheeks into it, Sakura offered her a smile. Even smaller, Hinata smiled back. The hand on her back patted awkwardly once more, and green eyes went from white to black. “... Hi, Sasuke.” She almost wanted to ask what he was doing here, but the hazy memories cartwheeled across her thoughts with the answer.

They’d met on the night of the--

The _Konoha_ Massacre.

Acid threatened across her tongue as her stomach convulsed again, but she grit her teeth and breathed it out and kept control. Sasuke took a step closer, frowning, but she scrunched her eyes shut again. Things were different, just like she’d hoped - but she wasn’t sure if it was better or worse. There was nobody she could ask, or confide in. She was… alone… And the dreams wove their way back through her mind-- _memories,_ not dreams, and suddenly everything was a blur again and she had to fight down the tears, swiping roughly at the ones already seeping past. The odd new childhood that lay over the one she already knew was hard to pick apart, but if she focused then little pieces started to make sense.

The chaos that had almost overtaken Konoha and the way it had taken days for it to die down - Tsunade and Jiraiya showing up and taking control. Who had gone to get them? Surely it had been one of the jōnin, to have gotten it done so fast. Maybe the Anb---

For a moment, Sakura’s breath turned to ice. Hinata squeezed her shoulder gently, and - air once more - she exhaled sharply.

The official pronouncement from the Uchiha clan had reached her first from word-of-mouth, the trickle-down of information through the higher ranked ninja forces to the Academy to the civilians. Later, Sasuke had murmured what extra details he had - in hindsight, she doubted he'd told her _everything_ because surely the clan wouldn't allow that.

Afterwards, the Sandaime Hokage’s funeral had been an almost barren affair.

“You feeling any better?” Sasuke asked from his awkward position at the side of the bed; his arms were at his sides now, withdrawing the somewhat uncertain patting of her back, but there was a very real concern in his eyes that made Sakura want to cry all over again. As awful as her scattered, strange knowledge of what had happened in the stead of the Uchiha Massacre was, part of her thrilled at the fact of it. The Uchihas weren’t dead. The how and why of it could wait until later.

The smile she offered was small, but genuine. “Yeah. I…” She had no idea how to explain herself. She **couldn’t.** “I don’t know what happened.”

Hinata made a small noise, finally withdrawing her arm and folding into herself, but she stayed seated on the bed at Sakura’s side. “Uhm… Keita-san said to tell him when you woke up, so…” Trailed off into nervous silence, and pale eyes shot between then like she was asking permission. Before Sakura could open her mouth, Sasuke made an impatient noise.

“So go get him, then.”

It was… harsh, in a way, but even as Hinata nodded and scurried off to do so, there was nothing unkind in Sasuke’s face. Annoyed by the inefficient way Hinata was going about things, perhaps, but the hard glint of anger that Sakura had come to associate with him was gone. He looked back up at her when Hinata was gone, and his mouth twitched like he couldn’t decide between a smile and a scowl.

“Don’t pull this shit again, ‘kura.” And still not angry. If Sakura had been the child she remembered herself to be, she wouldn’t have noticed it; but she had a losing war under her belt, and she saw only too clearly the faint note of fear that ran underneath the scolding. “I don’t want to have to hunt down a new teammate.”

_Teammate._

A dream-- A _memory_ flickered again, and Sakura had to choke back a snort as Tsunade-sensei’s laughter rang in her ears. How audacious indeed, to ask for a specific jōnin-sensei - but there was something comforting about how Tsunade-sensei had reacted to it. Familiar. Even if everything was different and she didn’t understand it yet, some things never changed.

Maybe that would be true for other things too.

She didn’t mean to let out the excited little squeal, but it bypassed her entirely. A flood along immature synapses and control that this body hadn’t yet learned; flexing her hands felt _wrong,_ the muscles still soft and the precision of a med-nin completely absent. _I’m a child._ The realisation wasn’t as awful as it could be. She was a child, barely a genin, but even with an untrained body she remembered how it all worked. “So we’re teammates?” came spilling out of her mouth - high pitched - but she let it happen and only kept half an ear on the conversation.

Her chakra felt billowy and loose under her skin, and even with all her experience it was hard to weave out a thin enough layer to pulse out around the room. Sasuke’s chakra signature came bouncing back, muddied by her own. It was the same as she remembered, the distinct faint crackle of it. Recognising specific signatures wasn’t the easiest skill in the world, but Sakura would never forget how her family felt.

Sasuke was smirking at her. A faint twitch of an eyebrow told her that he’d felt her chakra pulse - or at least felt _something_ when she’d done it - but he made no comment. Instead: “Of course we’re teammates. You think the Hokage could put the best kunoichi in our class with anyone _else?”_

Warmth flooded under her skin. Amusement made itself known in the little giggle that escaped her - after all, once again, some things never changed and it seemed Sasuke was just as cocky as ever - but there wasn’t the desperate edge to be the best. There wasn’t the ruthless driving force behind every word.

It was the happiest that Sakura had ever seen him.

Whatever she’d been about to say in reply (and honestly, she wasn’t even certain what it would have been) was interrupted as the door opened quietly and Keita-san strolled in, an eyes-down finger-tapping Hinata on his heels. “How are you feeling, Sakura?” He came close to the bed and held two fingers less than an inch from her temple; the faintest glow of chakra flared from his skin, sparked against hers, and Sakura was momentarily blinded as her pupils dilated. A moment later they shrank and she squinted in the false darkness.

“I feel much better, now.” It was the truth, after all - even if she couldn’t explain herself. Keita-san hummed, and ran his fingers down her back. Before he could tell her to do so, she took as deep a breath as she could manage, held it for five seconds, and then let it out slowly. _Lungs clear. Tidal volume normal for my age and size._ “I think I just got a little overexcited,” she offered as Keita-san moved his chakra-glowing fingers around to her front. “I was too nervous to eat this morning.” Even as the words came out, she realised that the second part was actually true. Had she really been so anxious a child the first time around?

A small hum of acknowledgement showed he’d heard her while he held position and counted her heartbeats. _Perhaps a little fast, but there’s no irregularities._ Another slow breath, and Sakura felt out her own chakra again, focusing on its flow and the knot of her chakra nexus where it sat a little above her solar plexus. Thirty seconds later, apparently satisfied with her heart, Keita-san shifted to an open palm and held over her nexus too. _Feels good to me. No resistance in chakra flow._

Training was going to be rough. As long as it had taken her to work up to it, she was used to a larger reserve of chakra, and as advanced as her control of it already was for her age - reminding herself again that she was twelve, a child, and not the hardened eighteen-year-old shinobi she saw herself as - there was an unwelcome fluidity that had whole puddles slipping through her fingers.

Keita-san pulled away, withdrew a notebook from one of his many pockets, and made a few notes. “Well, everything seems to be in working order. You’re free to go, but make sure you eat something soon, and don’t skip out on breakfast again, alright?”

Sakura nodded. Then, when the med-nin didn’t move, she fought down a small smile and added, “Yes, Keita-san. I’ll remember.” Damn straight she’d remember. She’d outgrown the juvenile desire to diet herself into looking ‘beautiful’ years ago. She was a ninja; civilian conventions of beauty didn’t apply to her. Staying alive was infinitely more important, and if she dropped in the middle of a mission from hunger then it wasn’t only her own life she’d put in danger.

“So,” Sakura began once Keita-san had left, carefully setting her feet on the floor and standing up. There was a weakness in her legs that she hated, but nothing spun when they took her weight, and her first few tentative steps were steady. “I missed Iruka-sensei giving us our teams, didn’t I?” It was an obvious assumption, if Sasuke was already assured of their being placed together. Again.

She would do better, this time.

A familiar little _tch_ was all he gave in response, and she couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled up. _Yeah. Some things never change._

From where she lingered by the doorway, Hinata tapped her index fingers together and looked at the floor. “Sorry,” she whispered, and Sakura stared at her. Sorry? What was Hinata on about now? She had to actively remind herself that this wasn’t the powerful woman she’d become, the one who had fought tooth and nail against the Akatsuki and Juubi. This Hinata still had no idea of her own strength. “I’ll do my best not to let you down.”

It clicked together. Whatever had happened to Naruto - and her hands clenched briefly at her sides at the thought, a brief flutter of panic that she swallowed back and put to rest - his absence left open his place on their team. Hinata must have been chosen to fill it.

“You won’t let us down,” she said instead, walking over to put a hand on Hinata’s shoulder. “You’re gonna be great.” And even if Hinata didn’t believe her yet, maybe this time she’d have all the time she needed.

White eyes widened and met Sakura’s for only a moment, before flicking to Sasuke and then back to the floor. A faint noise, like she was trying to find something to say. Strands of shiny black hair fell forward to obscure her face, the faintest hint of colour dusting her cheeks, but she didn’t make another attempt. Sakura exchanged an uneasy glance with Sasuke.

The voice that came from the doorway was so familiar that Sakura felt her knees almost give out. “Isn’t that nice.” Held carefully neutral, with an edge that could be mistaken for contempt - but Sakura knew better than that, she knew him so much better… The last image she had of him flashed before her, the way he’d met their eyes with his own mismatched ones while one of Juubi’s beast balls lit up the world behind him like a halo. The way his body had scorched and burst before any of them could say a word. The way she’d screamed her defiance despite the fact he’d already been dead for the sake of their continued lives.

How, in the end, it hadn’t even mattered.

She was across the room before she could even think, arms encircling his waist as tight as she could manage. It was surreal for him to be so much taller than her again. Under the assault of her embrace, she felt the air rush out of his body, but the sound that accompanied it was so soft and controlled that she doubted either of the others would hear it. “Kakashi-sensei,” she murmured, unable to find any right words.

Alive. He was alive.

Kakashi hadn’t moved, although she knew damn well he could have evaded her if he’d wanted to. There was no reciprocation, but his back was stiff and his arms held slightly raised to avoid touching her back. His voice was dry when he spoke again, just a huff of exasperation. “Is she _always_ like this?”

As if the bastard hadn’t read their files five times over before coming to meet them. Sakura let out a noise that was half a snort, and half a sob.

“... You sure you’re alright, ‘kura?” came Sasuke’s voice, uneasy.

Her good sense caught up, and Sakura forced herself to let go and step back. Kakashi slid his hands into his pockets, his body language the picture of disinterest - but his one black eye was watching them carefully. There were going to be questions.

Maybe she should just answer them. If she was going to change the future - if, indeed, she already had - then maybe it would be best for her to confide in the leaders of the Leaf. Another step ahead, and a quiet voice in her brain that sounded suspiciously like Shizune offered an alternative.

What if she told them, and they didn’t believe her? _Worse,_ what if they did believe her and wouldn’t let her go? A prisoner with knowledge of the future and their potential enemies was too valuable a tool to pass by. Sakura loved Konoha with every fibre of her being, but she wasn’t a fool. It wasn’t above using such tactics, even if she was still a child, even if she was forthright.

The risk was too great. As much as she burned to let it all spill out, she had to keep her truth to herself. She had to ensure the safety of the future in every way she could, and she couldn’t do that buried beneath the Anbu headquarters. It was her _duty._ She owed the versions of Team Seven who had given their lives to get it done.

Licking her lips, Sakura tried to scuff her toes against the floor like the new childhood’s presence in her mind said she should. “I-- Sorry, Kakashi-sensei. I… I got ahead of myself.” It was a weak excuse. She resisted the urge to offer one from Kakashi’s own arsenal.

Kakashi waved one hand dismissively and set it back in his pocket. If she hadn’t known him, she would have believed he’d already forgotten about it - but she did know better, and so did Kakashi. He’d be watching her very closely.

_Shit._

Sakura was no slouch in the espionage department, but she might as well have been a lumbering blood ox next to Kakashi.

“All of you up on the roof in the next five minutes.” And with a whirl of chakra and leaves that Sakura did her damndest to track (and failed), he was gone again.

Sighing, Sakura turned her head to her teammates. Much as she loved her sensei, they would be waiting up on the roof for a while. “I guess we should go then.” Hinata darted over as she led the way out, and while he was more sedate about it, Sasuke was soon by her side.

“You sure you’re okay?” He seemed… troubled, this time, rather than outright concerned for Sakura’s safety. She couldn’t really blame him, but it still left a sour taste in her mouth to lie.

Lie she did. “Yeah, I’m sure. I’m just really glad we’re finally genin. Plus, I mean, that’s _Hatake Kakashi._ Think about all he can teach us!”

Luckily, it seemed her reputation as a nerd was still intact this second time around. Sasuke rolled his eyes, but offered a crooked little half-grin. “Of course that’s what you’re worried about.” He nudged her with a shoulder as they turned onto the stairs; enough to make her stumble, although the touch definitely hadn’t been that hard. She’d never seen Sasuke casually touch anyone. In fact, in all the years they’d known each other, she wasn’t sure she’d ever seen him _touch_ someone outside of battle.

Instantly, memories clamoured in her mind to prove her wrong. The split between them and what Sakura was thinking of as her ‘real’ memories was disconcerting - the new ones were foreign and strange, as if they belonged to someone else, but at the same time they were _hers._ A Sakura who was just as real even if she was probably gone now - a Sakura whose mind had been invaded and overtaken by this current version of herself. The real Sakura, she wanted to call herself, but that was hardly fair. The one she’d slithered through time to replace wasn’t any less real just because she was a child, just because Sakura-- the real Sakura-- the _future_ Sakura had been woven into her.

She was already starting to hate time travel. She was herself, and yet somehow just what exactly constituted _herself_ had been made jumbled and confusing. _Okay, all things Sakura is me,_ she told herself brusquely. _You can fiddle around with the difficult bits later._

As expected, Kakashi was nowhere to be found when they reached the roof of the Academy infirmary building, but Sakura was content to let it be. He was no doubt nearby, watching them as they interacted. Judging them already. The bell test would be coming up soon; tomorrow, if nothing drastic had changed about that.

 _And,_ as she settled down on a step and resigned herself to waiting, _if things aren’t_ **_too_ ** _different, he’ll know about Naruto._ After all, the adults of Konoha had known all the things about him that he himself hadn’t known the first time around. There was no small trace of bitterness attached to that thought. All it would have taken is for someone to explain it to him. He would have been all the better off for it.

There was always the possibility that the answer was somewhere lost in her ‘new’ memories, but there wasn’t time for her to sit down and sort through them right now. That could wait until tonight.

After five minutes, Sasuke let out a short huff of frustration and flopped onto his back. He voiced no complaints, but the way his fingertips started tapping at the concrete above his head gave away more agitation than she expected he would. Hinata - sitting a little away from them with her hair hiding her face - was weaving her hands together nervously, silent. An internal sigh had Sakura rolling her shoulders to relieve it. There was so much damage they’d have to undo before Hinata could grow into her own.

It took another five minutes for Sasuke to sit up again and look around with narrowed eyes, clearly searching. “Is he fucking serious?” muttered under his breath. With a faint hum, Sakura shrugged away the irritation. Ten minutes was almost nothing when it came to Kakashi being late. Besides, the time was giving her a much more ample opportunity to examine her own chakra network, running little pulses from her nexus across each core series of chakra vessels and expulsing tiny bursts from each fingertip. As she’d noted earlier, there was a looseness to it that she couldn’t force into the quicksilver feeling she was accustomed to. While it was easy to put that down to her current physical age and lack of training, the fact it remained despite mentally knowing exactly what was wrong was infuriating. It seemed as if she was going to have to train her body all over again; and there was no doubt that these failings extended to everything else too.

All the knowledge in the world was no good to her if she couldn’t physically execute on it.

She sighed. “Maybe he’s just testing us,” she suggested to try and ease Sasuke’s annoyance. It was odd to see it without the sharp edge - odd, but welcome. Even if he wasn’t quite the Sasuke she knew, he was still Sasuke. He was still her teammate, her brother in arms. Seeing him so unburdened was a gift that made the loss of her whole timeline almost worth it.

 _No._ It **was** worth it. She would make _sure_ that it was worth it.

However much longer Kakashi would make them wait, she couldn't spend it ruminating. It would be just the cruel twist of fate if she somehow took Sasuke's place as the team brooder. To distract herself, she figured she might as well get started on those chakra control exercises; there was no time soon enough for her to get back to the strength she'd left behind.

Eyes faint puddles of white through her hair, Hinata was watching as Sakura caught a leaf out of the air and waved it in lazy circles. One finger carried the contact of her chakra against it, the thinnest sliver she could manage while still making it stick. Paper would have been preferable - leaves were uneven, pitted surfaces, and her chakra stuck much less readily than to the relative smoothness of paper - but it was better than nothing.

Sakura was rewarded, after another ten minutes of practicing with the leaf, with a readily apparent improvement. Already, her chakra flowed slicker from finger to finger as she rotated the leaf across them, a rolling movement across one hand while she held the other still at her side. Feeling adventurous, Sakura settled the leaf between her index and middle finger and called on her med-nin training; focusing her chakra up through her fingers, she tried a quick diagnostic jutsu. While the results were too vague for her to have done it properly - a thick membrane, and a hollow lack of chakra, but she couldn't feel a good distinguishing signal between the leaf and how a corpse felt under the medical technique - they yielded enough information that Sakura was reassured she could get it all working properly soon.

Properly encouraged, she sent the lingering chakra in her hand up through her fingertips in a sharp burst, imitating a chakra scalpel. The leaf split neatly in two.

With a satisfied hum, Sakura let the leaf finally flutter to the ground. "I didn't know you could do that," Sasuke intoned from where he was lying on the ground again; there was a faint note of… pride? Was Sakura so daring as to hope that it was pride?

She offered him a sheepish smile in return, latching onto the first excuse that came to her. "I… kinda started reading about medical ninjutsu." Said quietly, the shyness creeping into her voice. A pause as she realised the fact, when she meant simply to offer an explanation.

Was this something she was going to have to look out for? Bits of her native personality slipping through? She'd have to watch out for that. If it struck at the wrong moment, it could get her killed.

Sasuke _hn'd_ thoughtfully. "Could be useful. Don't you need decent chakra control to do that stuff?"

"Yeah." Sakura silently gauged what she was now considering her native response. "Not all of us can be raw jutsu powerhouses like you, _Uchiha-senpai."_ As facetiously as she said it, she gave him a grin in accompaniment, and he snickered back at her.

"Did you know I caught one of my cousins calling Itachi that the other day? Dead seriously.” Sasuke shook his head.

 _So Itachi is still here._ A thousand little memories tumbled over themselves like wayward butterflies, clamouring for her attention, that all confirmed the same thing; there’d been there already, but without the time or inclination to catalogue them, she just hadn’t noticed. There was going to be a _lot_ of cataloguing when she got home today. _Good thing I remember all that code._

“Uhm… Sakura-san?” came the tremulous voice, and Sakura blinked. She’d forgotten just _how_ much self-doubt Hinata had come out of the Academy with - or maybe it had changed, just like the Uchihas had changed.

But Sakura quickly shook her head. “We’re teammates now, Hinata. Just Sakura is fine.”

Nervousness flickered in what was visible of Hinata’s face. “Oh… Okay. Uhm… Could you show me what you were doing with the leaf?”

This time, Sakura gave her a big smile. “Of course! Let me just--” Snagging two more leaves, she came over and sat down right by Hinata, offering her one. “You know the paper exercises we did in the Academy? It’s basically just like that, except you want to use a teensy bit more chakra while you move it around, because you’re creating resistance. Make sense?”

Let Kakashi-sensei watch this, instead of the three of them sitting around in their own little worlds. She had no doubt that he was spying, that he wanted to see what his prospective team would do when left to their own devices. Sakura would have done what she was doing even without that, but knowing exactly what Kakashi was looking for in them did give her a distinct advantage. _Sorry, Sensei._ It almost felt like cheating.

While she stuck her own leaf to her fingertip and waved it around again, she made use of the newfound - if still very minor - improvement and gathered a thin sheet of chakra, letting it spread evenly under her skin before throwing it out in as wide a pulse out around them as she could manage. Even with the vast mental skill she was carrying, she didn’t expect to sense Kakashi’s chakra if he was concealing it.

Sasuke and Hinata both paused as her exploratory pulse went over them and bounced back their distinct signatures. Their probing looks were curious but not suspicious - they settled on her for a moment, and then searched out around them too. Hinata shivered slightly.

Something like pride welled up in Sakura’s chest. Even with all their skill, they were too inexperienced to properly pinpoint Sakura as the source of the chakra disturbance, but they’d felt it. They were going to be fearsome one day - and Sakura knew that already, but she was going to make sure they got there. For all that she needed to train up her body in her own right, Sasuke and Hinata were truly genin. They hadn’t gone through a war, they hadn’t had any real battle experience yet. Talented though they were, they couldn't be prepared for what was out there.

An echo of chakra came back to her, enough to disrupt her concentration on the leaf and let it go fluttering down to her lap. So familiar - a flash of white and the feeling of Kakashi's chakra signature bursting against her senses before it vanished altogether - and she'd turned her head before she could think to second-guess herself, searching the nearby trees for any glimpse of jōnin black or silver hair.

She saw nothing incriminating, but she knew he was there. Something in her chest eased, when she hadn't even noticed in the first place that it had been taut; only the faint sting in her eyes warned her that she was close to crying again. Almost vibrating with it, realising how desperately she just wanted to hug everyone until she could convince herself they were real and alive, Sakura forced herself to look away. It could wait.

Perhaps forever.

"Sakura?" Hinata asked softly, the leaf still clinging to her fingers forgotten. There was a barely-there slip in her voice, as if she'd only just managed to restrain the urge to add an honorific to Sakura's name. "Are you alright?" At her back now, Sasuke hovered anxiously.

It wasn't an adverb Sakura had ever expected to apply to Sasuke, but the dark glint in darker eyes was unmistakable. He stayed silent, but he was watching her every move. Clashing against the knot in her chest, a puddle of warm affection slowly spread through her.

Her smile was almost as sad as it was soft. "Yeah, sorry. I'm fine." All her discipline went towards making sure her voice didn't catch, but she managed it. Blinking rapidly, she dispersed the threat of tears and looked at Hinata's leaf. As good a diversion as any. "You're doing great with that, Hinata." White eyes went down, and with a squeak Hinata lost the thread of chakra and her leaf spun lazily into her lap.

"Aren't you three just adorable." Sasuke's head whipped around to face the railing that - until a moment ago - had been completely empty, and Hinata jumped half a foot in the air, squeaking again. For her part, Sakura didn't jump or give herself whiplash, but she turned her head and half-twisted her body, hands clenching up defensively on reflex despite the fact that the voice made the thing in her chest even looser.

Real. It was real. _He's fine. Everyone is fine._

Blond hair and blue eyes flashed in her mind.

But it could wait a moment. Blundering into everything blindly wasn't going to help her, and wherever Naruto was, waiting a few minutes wouldn't be the deciding factor. Even as young as he would be again, Naruto could take care of himself.

And, loathe as she was to picture it, if he couldn't, then Kurama would do it for him.

Watching them with that one onyx eye, Kakashi took in their reactions. He lingered on Sakura for too long, but she just stared right back. Logic told her that _this_ Kakashi didn't know her yet, that he had no personal ties, but she studied his face as if he was _her_ Kakashi all the same.

The longer she looked, the more differences she saw. There was no malice in his face, the little twitches of his mask that were almost invisible but that she'd learned to read so easily. Kakashi-sensei might as well not have been wearing it. But the little eye-crinkle she'd come to love was absent; he leaned against the railing, just as she remembered, but the deceptive slouch was replaced with a straight back, and his folded arms were loose and ready to fly into action. He _did_ still have one foot against the railing, knee bent in a way that almost seemed relaxed - but Sakura saw the tension held behind feigned disinterest, the readiness resting on a kunai's edge.

He was still Kakashi, but he wasn't the person she knew. The way his eye narrowed slightly as the realisation bled into sorrow told her that he'd seen it in her face.

 _He_ knew that the chakra pulse had been hers. He _knew_ she'd picked up his presence. All at once, her mouth went dry; she should have known better. No genin should be doing that, let alone doing it well. Maybe, if she'd proven a prodigy in the Academy, it might have been expected - but she hadn't.

Dreams-that-were-memories burned in the back of her mind. The fractions of herself that had slipped through over the years. Desperation to change Itachi's path. A single-minded need to ensure she got placed with Kakashi. It didn't surprise her much that out of all the things she'd focused on for those brief windows, Kakashi was one of them. He was her sensei. In a way, as ninja went, he was like a second father.

But the jōnin that studied her now… was not her sensei. Not yet. There was something cold in the way his eye-smile was missing, in the way he stood. His general appearance, at least, was almost the same; the jōnin standard outfit, with the modified Anbu gloves that carried the protective backs; they extended past his wrists, this time, carrying a protective plate that presumably ran all the way up his forearms underneath the jacket. Sakura couldn't stop herself from wondering what they were protecting. Mask hiding his face, hitai-ite pulled down low to cover his Sharingan eye. His hair was a little bit longer, a little bit messier, but close enough.

He seemed… thinner.

Sakura sensed rather than heard Sasuke shift his stance, where he stood behind his kunoichi teammates. Kakashi-sensei didn't move his gaze off Sakura, but she saw the faintest tension in his arms as he waited for them to react, sensed the infinitesimal coiling of his chakra. It was almost nothing - if he'd been masking his chakra in any way, Sakura wouldn't have noticed.

His eye narrowed just the tiniest bit, and Sakura realised that she'd sat up straighter, that her hands were clenched and her arms held loose at her sides. Chakra clouded in her fists like thick fog, ready to amplify her attacks with vicious bursts of energy. Reacting automatically, to a threat she shouldn't have even been able to notice - and reacting with restrained violence. No assessment. Just the readiness to fight.

For all intents and purposes, she supposed, she'd died in wartime.

With visible effort, Sakura made herself relax. When she smiled, she actively tried to recreate the soft expression of Kakashi's eye-smile. "Kakashi-sensei. Now you're here, maybe we should introduce ourselves?" A twofold decision, if she was honest; part of her just desperately wished to feel like she had before the war, before everything, when her teammates were insufferable but loveable - when Kakashi being there made her feel so completely safe.

The rest of her was, she daren't admit, trying to see what boundaries she could push. Would he let her effectively take control? Would he be suspicious that she'd stolen his trick, or was it a generic enough icebreaker to pass muster?

Kakashi finally eye-smiled at them, and Sakura swallowed back the sadness that threatened her all over again. His eye crinkled at the corners, and if she hadn't known him at all then she'd have believed it wholesale - but it didn't extend down to his mouth, behind the mask. There was something… _cold_ about it.

"That sounds like an excellent idea." And he waited for them.

After a moment, Sakura cleared her throat. "Okay. Well, my name is Haruno Sakura, and I'm a civilian-born ninja. I wanted to become one because…" Her voice trailed off. Why had she…? The first time, she remembered giving Sasuke a doe stare and not finishing the sentence, but she was beyond that childishness now. And besides, he hadn't even existed to her when she'd actually first tried to enter the Academy. There had always been another reason - but she tried to reach through the parallel memories, and came up empty. A moment later, she decided to just give an honest answer. "Because I _am_ a ninja. I couldn't imagine anything else."

Perhaps that was another risk she shouldn't have taken. Kakashi was staring at her still, and the faked eye-smile was gone.

Sasuke cleared his throat, and the tension broke. "I'm Uchiha Sasuke. Obviously, I'm clan-born." Glancing up, Sakura met his gaze briefly and offered him a grateful smile; Kakashi hummed, evidently feeling the brief relaxation in the group.

When, after a few moments, there was nothing else forthcoming, Sakura gave Hinata a little nudge. Relief was bubbling in her chest, that Sasuke had nothing to say on the matter of _why_ he’d become a ninja. Given his birthright, it was the only logical path - and the fact he had no grand plan to take revenge on anyone was… more freeing than Sakura had expected. It was like finally breaking out of a genjutsu.

Finally, it started to seem really _real._ She’d stopped the Uchiha Massacre from happening. There was still bad shit that was happening in Konoha, there were countless future threats that Sakura still had to try and work around, but Sasuke was okay. She had to look away again, letting her long hair shroud her face - as unfamiliar and disorienting a sensation as that was - to force back the urge to cry. Again.

Hinata made a nervous little sound. “I… uhm… I’m Hyuuga Hinata. I’m… clan-born too.” That was good enough; small steps. If they pushed Hinata all at once, she’d break under the strain. Forcing a little smile, Sakura briefly gripped Hinata’s elbow and gave her a slight nod. It was all the praise she dared, under Kakashi’s watchful eye, but she knew that he wouldn’t miss it.

For a long minute, the silence came down around them like enemy fire. Finally, Sakura decided that Kakashi wasn’t going to break it, and put on her brightest voice. “What about you, Sensei?”

Even knowing Kakashi would never hurt a Leaf genin, even as she still desperately wanted to do nothing more than run over and hug him until she couldn’t feel her own arms anymore, the look on his face pinned her to the ground and made her heart skip a beat. It wasn’t that she was _afraid_ \- but where Sasuke was better off, whatever had changed had clearly affected Kakashi for the worse.

_That’s my fault too._

Her blood froze. “That seems fair,” Kakashi offered, and the cold eye-smile was back. “My name is Hatake Kakashi.” He said nothing more, but Sakura couldn’t help but fill in the gaps. _His family have been a ninja clan for a long time, and had a hand in founding Konoha. He became a ninja in wartime._ A thousand other things. Her throat felt tight; Kakashi-sensei - **her** Kakashi-sensei - had been born into wartime, and he’d died in wartime, just like her.

_At least he doesn't remember that._

The iciness in her veins seemed to _crack_ into something else, and she let out a slow breath. Kakashi had been a broken man far before she’d met him, but this time something she’d caused had pushed him past the edge. However more distant he seemed, however more on edge he was, that was her responsibility.

_I’ll fix it, Kakashi-sensei. I promise._

She hadn’t taken her eyes off him, and he was still watching her back, although his attention occasionally wandered to her teammates now. At her flank, she felt Sasuke and Hinata exchange glances again.

This time, when she took a breath to speak - and she had a thousand more questions to ask, Naruto not least among them - he beat her to it. “Well. Now that’s cleared up, on to business. I want the three of you at training ground nine tomorrow morning, six thirty. Got that?” There was a round of nodding. “Oh. Also don’t eat breakfast. And don’t be late.”

Sasuke let out an annoyed little _tch_ as Kakashi vanished in a whirl of leaves (if Sakura looked really hard, she thought she could make out his trajectory, but she couldn’t be sure). “That’s rich, coming from him.” As best she could, Sakura muffled a laugh into a noise of agreement.

Next to them, Hinata looked a little green. “What do you think he’s going to have us do that would make eating a bad idea?”

Sakura bit her lip. For their sake, she wanted to open her mouth and tell them to eat anyway. They’d need their energy to try and take the bells from Kakashi. Sakura had little hope of actually succeeding at the task - even if she’d had the ability to properly use everything she was capable of, she was still certain Kakashi could outpace her. Perhaps not with ease, anymore, but Sakura didn’t really think that she could beat him. Still, actually succeeding wasn’t the purpose of the bell test, and Sakura had no doubt they’d pass that.

But actually saying that they should go against the first direct order their sensei had given them? Even if it was technically in their best interests, that wouldn’t look very good. As far as following her ‘native’ self went, there wasn’t any way she should know what was in store for them tomorrow.

“Well…” She couldn’t justify it. At the very least, she could play along and follow orders too. Keita-san would be furious with her if he found out, she thought idly. “Whatever it is, we’re a team now, right? We can do it together.”

And maybe, if she was lucky, Kakashi was still spying.

* * *

Tonight - as with most nights, as he understood it - the Cattery was quietly busy. Jōnin in all states of official dress and drunk littered the slim bartop along the far wall and the various booths that lined the others. Several brave (or shameless) souls were dancing in the vaguely open floor between them.

The music was a welcome distraction, at least. Too quiet to get in the way of conversation, but loud enough that even a room full of the most finely-tuned senses in Konoha could muse away without listening to each other’s conversations.

Right now, that was what Uchiha Itachi was most grateful for. It helped mask the giggling sitting across from him (four shots deep) while he morosely swirled his (first) drink in its glass. He found no appeal in it - one sip had been enough to say definitively that it tasted like the morning after a concussion - but there seemed to be some mandatory unspoken rule in effect that said he had to have one in hand.

When the giggling began to quiet, he sighed and looked up again. “Is that all the advice you have for me?”

Waving over the girl serving drinks (wrapped head to toe in thin stretchy material that Itachi thought looked suspiciously like Anbu blacksuit, and sporting a meagre sash stitched with the Cattery’s insignia in reflective gold thread), Yūhi Kurenai laughed again. “I’m honestly not sure what to tell you. Every genin squad is different - you have to adjust to them just as much as they have to adjust to you.”

Pink dusted Kurenai’s cheeks as she ordered another shot and a cocktail to chase it down with, her pupils wide in red eyes, and Itachi frowned slightly. It wasn’t that he considered it bad advice - it was that she was able to give it so succinctly while obviously intoxicated. She’d barely even slurred. “Exactly how much practice do you have at this?” he asked, and Kurenai cocked her head.

“At… genin? I’ve only had the one team before.” Not exactly what Itachi had meant, but it could safely be let slide. For a moment, she hummed, and placed a finger against her jaw thoughtfully. “I suppose that means you should take my advice with a grain of salt.” The serving girl bounced over, and Kurenai flashed her a wide smile as she took her drinks. “Hmm….” her voice trailed off into the shot, and then she shuddered. Her expression said it tasted bad - which Itachi could easily believe. He really didn’t understand the appeal. “Why’d you pick me to ask, anyway?”

Itachi hesitated a moment. “I’d already asked Kaede and Ryō, and I didn’t want to ask Gai.”

This time Kurenai’s laughter wasn’t contained to mere giggles. Some of the other jōnin shot them looks, but otherwise there was no reaction. After a few moments, Kurenai took a quick sip of her cocktail and let out a long, low sound. “Well, you know what Tsunade is like. This is probably as much for your benefit as theirs. Who’d she saddle you with anyway?”

“Aoishi Ren and Aburame Shino.” Itachi swirled his drink. “... I’m slightly concerned for their safety.”

Squinting at him, Kurenai hummed and took another sip. “Cause their sensei has a reputation as wicked as yours? I mean, she saddled Kakashi with a team too.” Jerking her thumb over her shoulder, she indicated the man where he was sat comfortably in the corner, an untouched drink and both his feet on his table, nose buried in his orange book. Itachi pretended not to be able to read the title.

“No. Because whatever I’ve been supposed to teach Neji over this past year, I’m worried he’ll forget it and kill them the moment he gets frustrated with them.” Which would be _immediately._ As if Neji’s continued self-righteous attitude wasn’t enough of a marker of Itachi’s failure, his temper hadn’t improved any either.

Itachi sighed, and found himself taking another sip of the foul liquid that was supposed to be beer. Only a lifetime of discipline kept him from spitting it back into the mug. This time, when he put it down, he put it out of swirling distance. “Well… Tell ya what, Itachi.” A faint slur coloured Kurenai’s voice now. She took another sip of her cocktail. “Since I didn’t get a team this year… I could come by and help you out with yours. I mean, if you want.”

As much as it rankled to accept help in what he recognised as a vital mission for the future of Konoha, it was better than allowing his pride to screw it up. “I would… greatly appreciate that, Kurenai.” A pause. “If you’re up to it tomorrow, I’m meeting them in training ground six. I expect we’ll be there all day.”

Movement behind Itachi distracted Kurenai’s gaze, and she offered only a vague hum and nod in return; Itachi frowned slightly but didn’t turn. Kaede rarely bothered to hide her chakra signature while they were in the village.

“Kurenai,” the taller kunoichi began, leaning down until she was right in Kurenai’s face. Her voice was slurred - ruining the otherwise serious tone. “You and I… have to celebrate.” Before either Kurenai or Itachi could ask what, she’d taken Kurenai’s hand and _tugged._ “I love messing with the little bastards, but no genin this year means **real missions!”**

Without even knowing what the context was, most of the bar let out a concordant cheer. Even Kakashi glanced up from his corner.

“Sorry, Itachi,” Kurenai laughed out, swiping her cocktail and downing the rest of it while she resisted Kaede’s pull to the makeshift dancefloor. “Hey-- How about you take Mitskuni home. Sound good?”

She was gone a moment later, spinning happily to the music with Kaede laughing and copying her movements, and Itachi cast his gaze across the bar counter until he spotted a little head of blond hair. After a moment, Itachi got to his feet; a pause, while he considered Kakashi again. While this wasn’t the first set of genin that had been assigned to him, Kakashi had never technically led a team.

Not since Anbu, anyway.

Black met black and Kakashi held Itachi’s gaze for a moment before nodding his head towards the little ball of what possibly amounted to jōnin. Another moment, and Itachi broke eye contact.

Mitskuni moaned when Itachi came to a stop next to him, evidently sensing his presence. “Let me die,” he mumbled into the varnished wood. Critically, Itachi looked him up and down.

“I’m fairly certain that would be treasonous. Better for you to go home.” A groan met the pronouncement, but Mitskuni offered no resistance when Itachi took him delicately by one arm and slid him off the barstool. As tiny as he was - barely up to Itachi’s chest - his balance even while thoroughly drunk was testament to his deserved jōnin ranking. “Can you walk?”

For a moment, Mitskuni seemed to consider it. He raised one hand, index finger extended, and opened his mouth to speak. Froze for a moment. Then he snapped his mouth shut again and held a hand over it. Whimpered out a no, shaking his head slightly.

Itachi sighed. No wonder he’d been given the task of taking Mitskuni home; he was among the few Konoha jōnin who wasn’t much for drinking, and of that limited pool only Kakashi never got stuck with escort duty. What was he doing that Itachi wasn’t? It wasn’t as if Itachi couldn’t be scary when he wanted to be.

Damn it.

Mitskuni was light, at least, as he hung deadweight in Itachi’s arms, head rolling off one of his shoulders. The trip was quiet, once they made it out of the Cattery and Itachi could safely walk at his full stride. The night air was still warm in late summer, but the breeze tugged playful fingers at Itachi's hair. “You know,” slurred the little drunkard while Itachi rounded a corner close to Mitskuni’s apartment block. “... I’m gonna die.” Itachi rolled his eyes. “I haven’t even been a jōnin for six months yet. Tsunade’s trying to kill me.”

“Your genin aren’t that bad. You know for a fact that they’ll cooperate; their formation has served well for generations.”

Mitskuni groaned again, letting his head roll until he could look at Itachi’s face. Dark green eyes flickered up and down a little, having trouble focusing. “I can barely handle a group of chūnin.” Slurred so badly that Itachi was having a little trouble picking out the words. “Nobody told me that… that promotion came with _leadership.”_

“I know for a fact that they did,” Itachi countered, pausing to contemplate the building and then deciding to walk up the civilian way; trying to balance his way up the side with only his feet as stable connection points and a whole other person in his arms would be a disaster.

“Weren’t you just… complaining ‘bout your team?”

Sternly, Itachi frowned as they came upon Mitskuni’s door. “I wasn’t complaining. Merely voicing concerns about my own competency. Neji is… difficult. I don’t believe I’ve made much of an impression on him, even after a year.”

Mitskuni hiccupped. Tension shot through his abdomen and coiled in his chest, and for a moment Itachi was convinced that he was about to get vomited on; then, Mitskuni hiccupped again, and relaxed. “Sure. Key?” One hand fumbled through the flak jacket he was still wearing, and produced a small key. “Key.”

“If you would prefer, I’d happily trade teams with you.” The offer wasn’t serious, as Itachi set Mitskuni down on the couch. Tsunade had created the graduation teams as she had for reasons - Itachi imagined very specific reasons - and there was no swapping them around. After all, a mission was a mission; being a sensei was a very real order, just like everything else.

Mitskuni squeaked as he sprawled out on his side. “No thanks.”

Once more, Itachi rolled his eyes. The key went on the kitchen table, and on his way out the inside lock for the front door was flipped back up. A vague “Thanksss Itachi…!” drifted out after him, and then the door clicked shut. Mitskuni was a jōnin, even drunk - he’d be fine. For a moment, Itachi savoured the lazily moving wind - finally with a less pungent odour of alcohol - and then he sprang off the open stairs and into the night.

All in all, the mission to seek advice from the other jōnin had been a roaring failure, and he no more looked forward to trying to integrate two new graduates into the dynamic (such as it was) that he had established with Neji over his year of solo training than he had before. Somehow, all the same, Itachi felt better about it.

There was something to be said for the value of camaraderie.


	3. The Sound of Bells is a Cold One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sakura is prepared for the Bell Test - and then, she is not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm thinking that I'm going to have to break this up into separate books - Naruto is so damn long and sprawling that tackling it in smaller chunks is best for my sanity LMAO  
> Are there any places y'all would prefer those breaks to go?
> 
> Next chapter due by: **22nd March 2020**

Ignoring his mother and Itachi eating breakfast as he'd gone about his morning ablutions had been harder than he cared to admit. When Mother had asked, he'd responded with a simple "My sensei told me not to," and she'd laughed softly and accepted it. Itachi had seemed a tad more upset with the idea, if the faint narrowing of his eyes was any indication, but he hadn't spoken.

Now, he was regretting it more than ever; Hinata had already been waiting at the entrance to ground nine when he'd shown up, the sun already cresting the horizon, but they had five minutes left until six-thirty and Sakura was yet to show. He'd have spared more energy to worrying about it, if his stomach wasn't quietly growling at him, angry with the lack of food.

He dreaded the hunger cramps he no doubt had to look forward to once they started actually training.

"Good morning, Sasuke-san," Hinata had intoned at his approach, and he'd mumbled a vague reply while going over to the fence and settling on one of the wider posts. He had nothing against the girl, personally - he knew only too well that many of the older Uchihas still disagreed bitterly with Tsunade-sama's decision to create as many Uchiha-Hyuuga teams as logistically possible, but he neither understood nor shared the sentiment. The Hyuugas were a strong clan. Worth respecting, even if a lot of his elders seemed to think that uniting was impossible.

On that, Sasuke agreed with Itachi. They were all Konoha-nin. They shared common allies and common goals. It shouldn't be so damn difficult to just get along. And besides, it had been the alienating of the clans that had led to--

Well, Sasuke tried not to think about that.

“What time do you think Kakashi-sensei will get here?” he asked idly, leaning back with his palms on the edge of the post, and glancing over at Hinata. She jumped, fixing startled eyes on him; was she really so shocked merely being talked to?

_ Maybe it’s just someone actually asking her opinion, _ Sasuke thought darkly. Whilst most of the Hyuugas were alright with him, there were a few that he had trouble reconciling with the idea of unity - and the current Clan Head was firmly in the lead.

She shuffled her feet. Wouldn’t meet his eyes. “I… I’m not sure, Sasuke-san.”

Waving a hand towards her, Sasuke sat up straight and tried out a few stretches. “Just Sasuke. You heard ‘kura yesterday.” A little noise of acknowledgement - or maybe it was just a squeak - and Sasuke held back a little  _ tch _ of irritation. Was this girl a kunoichi or not? The hitai-ite hanging around her neck said she was, but Sasuke was starting to wonder if it was earned. Would the Hyuuga patriarch stoop so low as to buy his daughter’s way into a career that could only end in her death?

His thoughts came up short. The Uchiha clan leader - his very own mother - would never do such a thing, but Sasuke had no such beliefs in Hiashi’s morality. For a moment, he just stared at her.

What would Itachi do? The answer, when it presented itself, was deceptively simple.  _ Find out for himself. _

In one fluid motion, Sasuke hopped back off the fence and walked right up to her. She was only barely shorter than him, but somehow she seemed even smaller as she stared up with wide, white eyes. He couldn’t help the little twitch of his mouth, but he suppressed the shiver; being unable to see the Hyuugas’ pupils was never a comfortable sight. The silence stretched out for another minute, while Sasuke sized her up and she waited for whatever she thought he was going to do. Narrowly built, just like all the Hyuugas, but Sasuke couldn’t gauge how much was lean muscle hidden by the loose hoodie, and how much was self-neglect. She wouldn’t be the first kunoichi to be stupid enough to try it - although somehow, he thought that Hinata might be above such behaviour.

He  _ hoped. _

Done trying to glean what information he could by sight, he turned away and began to walk. “Come on. We have to wait for Sakura and Kakashi-sensei to show up; let’s get some sparring practice in.” His stomach rumbled its disagreement with this plan, but Sasuke pushed it away. Ninja went without food all the time - not by choice, of course, but hunger was something he was going to have to get used to. If he couldn’t spar through one missed meal, then a real battle would probably see him dead.

The noise Hinata let out was more strangled than squeak, but he heard her hurry after him anyway. “Are… Are you sure? I’m not much of an opponent…” Sasuke spared her a glance - a ripple of shock made him miss a step. With how quiet her voice had been, he’d assumed she was still catching up with him, but she was right on his flank, tapping her fingertips together, staring at the ground as she walked.

She was  _ fast. _ And she was  _ quiet. _ A point against her position being bought, then, and a damning mark against whoever had convinced her she wasn’t any good. Too early to be certain of either, of course, but Sasuke was close to confirming it. He’d never been any good at patience.

Without being told, she took up a position on the near side of a very scuffed sparring circle, and watched Sasuke walk to the other. One hand darted up to tuck her bangs behind her ears. “You cool with skipping warmups?” he called across the circle, briefly stretching again and then settling into a resting stance. Decidedly  _ not _ Academy standard, held a bit higher, a bit further back than the generic taijutsu taught through the Academy, ready to dance back and fire off elemental techniques.

She'd already slipped into her own pose, held lower and lighter on her feet, a steadying presence without permanent grounding to get in the way of spinning at a moment's notice. "... Yes," she called back - softer, but it carried far enough. "Are we using dōjutsu?"

Sasuke bit back the chagrined growl; it was born out of shame, and it wasn't Hinata's fault.  _ What would Itachi do. _ A silent reminder to himself, as he took a sharp breath and tried not to blink too obviously. "I don't have my Sharingan yet." Bitten out as evenly and calmly as he could manage - but forced through his teeth all the same.

"Oh!" Red bloomed out across Hinata's face. "I'm sorry."

Letting a soft breath hiss out was better than getting upset. Sasuke couldn't expect a Hyuuga to understand how the Sharingan worked; after all, it was a secretive topic, and Sasuke didn't know anything more than the basics of Byakugan. "It's fine. Shall we start?"

After a moment of hesitation, Hinata lifted her hands into uneven positions in front of herself. "Okay."

Maybe it was unfair - whatever her skill level might turn out to be, his self-confidence was infinitely better than hers, and he knew it. But the moment she spoke, Sasuke leapt at her, aiming for a low jab to the stomach. He'd try to avoid her face; it was only a spar, after all. Her eyes went wide as he shot towards her, and for a moment Sasuke thought he'd overestimated her, that it was about to be over. Throughout their Academy tenure, he'd seen Hinata spar many times - he'd had to spar her himself - but she'd only ever given a token resistance, and given in soon afterwards.

Catching his attack, Hinata swept down with one hand; knocked Sasuke's out and away from her, redirecting his momentum to go beside her instead of at her. She spun with the movement, and Sasuke saw the counter coming clearly. If she struck him in the back, he'd go to ground.

At least she wasn't actually  _ using _ Jūken on him, if the continued ability to use his hand was any indication. Unresisting, Sasuke let Hinata's block redirect his motion into a spin, picked up one foot, and twisted with it. All his momentum shifted as he controlled the would-be stumble, and just as Hinata came around to strike him, his foot made contact with her chest.

She was thrown back a few metres, lost her footing, and landed flat on her arse. Her breath puffed out, wincing as Sasuke caught his own balance and gently set his foot back on the ground.

Point to him.

"You alright?" he asked from where he stood. Even if he'd rather have had a more competent teammate - one of his Uchiha classmates, or the quietly skilled Aburame, or even one of the other Hyuugas - he wasn't as disappointed as he could be. She at least had a good reaction time, had defended herself with some vague sort of attack plan. There'd been a steadiness in her block that he hadn't expected.

Taking a deep breath, Hinata pulled herself to her feet. "I'm fine, thank you." Soft, but even though the kick to her chest had to hurt (and Sasuke felt a little bad, even though it had been nearly impossible to properly pull his strike and maintain his balance in such a precarious position), she rubbed at it once and then dropped back into her combat stance.

Part of Sasuke wondered if it was because she was waiting until  _ he  _ called the end of it, or if she was just used to going until she couldn't anymore. There was almost something… warm about the idea. It was a feeling Sasuke was well familiar with; it was nice to have something in common with her. They'd be stuck with each other for a long time.

"Okay." She didn't attempt to engage him, and this time Sasuke took a pause to circle her slowly, watching her turn to keep him in front of her. Some invisible line was crossed, and Sasuke jumped at her again - this time, he aimed low and caught himself just as he reached her. Swept his foot out to knock her off her own. Fast as she was to try and dance back, he made contact. With her Jūken style already keeping her light on her feet, even a hit less solid than Sasuke's was would have toppled her. She went down almost instantly, but even as Sasuke reset himself and jumped after her, she was tucking her chin to her chest and turning her fall into a tumble. Out of his reach - she probably wouldn't initiate an attack, which meant he had no choice but to close the distance himself.

Her gaze tracked him as he rotated around the sparring circle again, and when he did finally dart in again, he settled for a flurry of short jabs. She blocked all of them, her expression hardened in concentration, but she made no attempt to counterattack. One opening slipped by - a moment when Sasuke's hands had both been knocked aside in quick succession, but her stomach was unguarded and he had the balance to slam a knee into it.

Ignoring that opportunity, he drove her further back, one step at a time while she continued to simply defend. There was no need to land attacks that could actually hurt her; Sasuke had a feeling that Kakashi-sensei would do more than enough of that, today. He'd seemed nice enough, when he'd spoken with them yesterday, if somewhat withdrawn, but he’d been that way the first time they’d met, and Sasuke knew his reputation. Itachi spoke very highly of Hatake Kakashi. There was no doubt that their training would be brutal.

Hinata seemed confused when Sasuke suddenly stepped back, ceasing his attack. For all her reluctance to actually  _ fight _ him, she had an excellent defence.

It only made the thought that someone  _ else _ had trained her to doubt herself so much even bitterer on Sasuke's tongue.

"Are you okay?" she asked nervously, the hint of steel that had been in her eyes totally gone. Instead of speaking, Sasuke allowed himself a small smirk and looked down. Hinata's gaze followed. In between them was the curve of the sparring circle border - Sasuke safely inside it, and Hinata pushed out. "Oh." And she forced a little smile that fooled neither of them. "Sorry, Sasuke. I wasn't paying attention."

The smirk morphed into a scowl. Leaving the circle was as valid a loss as anything else - he could recall countless times when it had been the chosen method of elimination back in the Academy. Despite Sakura's lacklustre taijutsu, it was the chief cause of the victories she  _ did  _ have.

And Hinata shouldn't be  _ apologising _ for Sasuke's use of it. What was she even apologising  _ for?  _ Not being an exciting fight?

"Come on," he said instead, moving back towards the other side of the ring. "Let's go again."

He won twice more before his irritation finally got the better of him. Offering Hinata a hand up from her place on the ground, he laid the trap - and she took the bait. As soon as her fingers curled into his, he yanked. Hard. Jolted up, Hinata stumbled and gave no resistance, pulled flat against Sasuke’s chest for a moment before he kicked her feet out again and took her to the ground. Completely under Sasuke’s control, she was spun around onto her front as she went down, the hand still locked in Sasuke’s pulled taut behind her back. One of Sasuke’s knees went straight into the small of her back, applying pressure to prevent her from struggling; the other went a little further until his shin lay across the backs of her legs, just above her knees. She still had one hand free, but so did Sasuke.

Wisely, she didn’t struggle, but she let out a sharp squeak of surprise, and then went motionless underneath him. For a moment, the silence stretched out, broken only by the faintest of panted breaths. Whether it was exertion or fear, Sasuke wasn’t sure - but he let them billow in the dust under her nose all the same.

“... S-Sasuke…?” she finally quavered, and - being careful not to actually pull and risk injuring her - Sasuke tightened his grip on her wrist.

The increased pressure on her back would hurt, as he leaned down slightly, but it wouldn’t do her any lingering harm. She bit back a noise of pain. “You don’t fight; not really. You just try to make sure I don’t hit you, and that can’t last forever. You’re a  _ kunoichi, _ not some pacifist monk. Start acting like one.”

A minute went by in silence, and while Hinata didn’t relax, she didn’t try to escape Sasuke’s hold either. When it became apparent that she wasn’t going to, he leaned a little harder on her back. She moaned softly. “... Are you going to… to let me up…?” There was an edge of fear in her voice that told Sasuke she was worried that he wasn’t.

She was right. “Are you a genin or not?” Maybe there was more of a note of irritation in his voice than he meant. “If you refuse to fight, you won’t survive. And now we’re supposed to be a team.” Everything Itachi had ever tried to teach him echoed in his head. “You’ll get us killed, too. If you want to get up,  _ make _ me let go.” For a moment, she didn’t move; maybe he’d come across too harsh. As dire as his warning sounded - and it was true - he wasn’t aiming to become yet another source of discouragement. Just the opposite; to judge from her defensive skill, she had the potential to be as good as he’d expect his teammates to be. She just had to want to use it.

Pinned as she was, he felt the ripple of tension go through her as she tested his grip for weak points. The smirk that played on his face was almost feral. There was hesitation in the way she twisted slightly, putting the motion into her hips to avoid aggravating his hold on her as much as possible, but she didn't stop when it dug his knee deeper into her back. Tendons flexed tangibly under his shin as she kicked her feet up - and the moment he took notice of it, she finally attacked.

It was more subtle than he'd expected.

Initially, he thought she was still just testing him, twisting her wrist slightly, getting her free hand under her to brace and keep it out of Sasuke's reach. Only when she suddenly tugged her wrist out of his grasp did he feel it; barely-there, like a tangible echo. Numbly, his fingers failed to tighten and when she threw her whole body into a roll and bucked him, he didn’t stop her. Instead, Sasuke let go of her entirely and reached to catch himself, blindsided by how easily she'd dislodged him; understanding set in as his body ignored the intention of his brain and he crashed sideways into the ground. He could feel his chakra go into flux within his skin, so clearly she hadn't fully deactivated his tenketsu, but whatever imprecise disruption she'd made was enough to take him off guard.

He'd been right, earlier.

She was  _ fast. _

In moments, she'd set upon him and pinned him down, straddling his chest to hold him with her bodyweight, knees pressed down on his upper arms just above the elbows. His legs were free to attempt resistance, but so too were both her hands to fight it. For just a moment, there was a victorious glint in her eyes.

Then she turned crimson, and the weight on his arms eased a little. "Uhm… Sorry. I'm s-sorry." Her voice was small, while she looked away and let her bangs fall forward to obscure her face.

Sasuke felt the shock go through her as he started laughing. "Way fucking better." Eyes wide, she looked back at him; still chuckling quietly. "I’ll admit it. You caught me off guard."

Crimson filled her face, and then she loosed her pin, easing back and then getting off him, awkwardly standing back up. Her right arm went across her front, gripping her left elbow a little too hard. "I-- Thank you…?" As if she was unsure what to even do with herself. At least she wasn't apologising again.

Gingerly, Sasuke sat up and stretched out, shaking full control back into his hands and expelling small bursts of chakra to ensure that his tenketsu were properly opening up again. "So are you actually gonna spar me this time?" he asked, getting properly to his feet and jumping slightly in place. Still the faintest sense of numbness in his fingertips, but otherwise everything seemed to be in working order. Perhaps she'd just disrupted his chakra flow, rather than blocked it entirely.

Hinata bit her lip, but she met his gaze briefly. Nodded.

This time, when Sasuke won their spar, he had a quietly throbbing bruise on his left upper arm that he knew would be a nasty hue of purple by the afternoon, and a borderline feral grin. Hinata was panting softly from where Sasuke had knocked her to the ground, but she smiled more fully and once again accepted his hand; this time, Sasuke pulled her up to her feet and then let go.

“Is your arm okay?” she asked, flexing her own hands out. The question pulled Sasuke’s thoughts - already planning a new mode of attack - into a brief tailspin. Glancing down, he tried to curl his fingers into a fist briefly, and felt the odd numbness of inactive chakra coils.

He blinked. “You locked my tenketsu again.” There was no anger in his voice. If anything, he was impressed - she wasn’t using her Byakugan, and they hadn’t agreed on any rules against moulding chakra. Sasuke himself had been using brief spurts to move faster throughout their spars. The fact that she’d used what had to amount to guesswork and observation to hit him accurately just said even more that her capabilities already far exceeded her beliefs.

Quietly, Sasuke wondered to himself where she’d be if she’d had someone like Itachi at her back.

“Sorry. I was--”

“Don’t apologise for getting hits in during a spar.” Sasuke’s voice was sharp, and Hinata’s blush turned white almost instantly; but she didn’t drop her gaze, and Sasuke felt the smirk in his own face. “Though I’d really like the use of my arm back.”

A squeak later - markedly smaller than her others - and Hinata made a brief, one-handed sign to focus her chakra.  _ “Byaku…” _ trailed off, and lines formed around the corners of her eyes, chakra veins lifting against her skin, the outline of her pupils just barely becoming visible. With the fingertips of each hand, she tapped against his arm in several places, paused to watch, and then nodded to herself. Stepped back. Released her Kekkei Genkai. “It should be fine now.”

Stretching his arm out, Sasuke pushed little trickles of chakra out through his hand and humming. “Didn’t even feel you do it.” And perhaps that would come with experience on his part, but he was already miles ahead of most of his peers in terms of chakra sensory skill, and Hinata’s touch had been so light - both times - that he didn’t even realise she’d used Jūken on him until it had been too late.

“Sasuke!” called out a familiar voice, and he turned in tandem with Hinata to face their third member, jogging towards them. Tilting his head, Sasuke glanced at the sky and tried to gauge how late Sakura was. She was smiling brightly as she came over, running in place. “Have you guys been sparring?”

Hinata just nodded, the shyness back again, but Sasuke discounted it. There was always more to learn; she’d have to get over it sometime. “You’re late.” Quirked an eyebrow at her.

While Sakura laughed, Sasuke narrowed his eyes and looked her over more carefully. Was she better today? Yesterday - as much as she’d tried to hide it - she’d slipped into one of her weird not-her moods. He hadn’t seen it very  _ many _ times over the years he’d been her friend, but it was something that Ino had assured him was normal. For a given value of normal, he supposed, but then shinobi in general were notoriously fucked up. It only made sense that Sakura would be too; there had to be  _ some _ reason a civilian would be drawn to the life of a ninja. But, as she quieted the laughter into an amused smile, unease slithered under Sasuke’s skin. The eerie moods that afflicted her had never lasted more than a day before.

Today, despite how normal she seemed to be trying to act, it hadn’t faded. It was there in her eyes, the odd distance that made the real Sakura seem so far away whenever it happened. Even as she smiled at them, and laughed when Hinata sheepishly admitted that Sasuke had kicked her butt, as she offered some sweet encouraging platitude, there was something…  _ wrong _ about her expression.

_ She looks like Itachi, _ Sasuke realised suddenly as he studied her face. Not literally, not with the heart-shaped facial structure or the bright green eyes or even the similarly long hair (swept up in a tight ponytail with her red ribbon); but it was the same careful analysis that lay underneath. Something calculative, something altogether disconnected. In Itachi, Sasuke was so used to it that he barely noticed. His brother’s constant evaluation had nothing to do with anyone else, and it didn’t detract from whatever immediate activity he was participating in.

In Sakura, it set Sasuke on edge, like a faint itch in his teeth. She’d never been like that. To see it  _ now _ was… unnerving.

“We should do a couple of laps to warm down and then settle in to wait,” Sakura was suggesting. Still smiling brightly, but that guarded edge didn’t waver. “There’s no telling how long Kakashi-sensei will make us wait.”

Hinata was already nodding, so Sasuke held his tongue and fell in line as they ran down a circuit of the training ground; even if it was lasting longer this time, Sakura would probably be back to her normal self soon. These moments were just part of being friends with her, and there was nothing medically wrong with her. Still, it didn’t help the disquiet in his chest as they slowly eased from running to jogging to walking. He remained slightly behind them as they came even with the sparring circle again, and when Sakura went and flopped onto the packed earth by the training posts, breathing harshly but grinning, he sat down a short distance away.

Panting through her words, Sakura rolled onto her side and half saf up, giving Sasuke her most winning smile. Part of him wanted to just let it go, but the odd change to the way she held herself was still present. No matter what he wanted to believe, she wasn’t the same friend he knew. “Huh… Better than… the first time… but I need to train a lot.”

_ The first time…? _

She seemed to realise she’d said something wrong, because for the briefest second, something like panic flashed through her face. “I meant-- Remember? The first time you let me come running with you?”

Indeed, he did remember, and she was right; she’d been far more unfit then. Too busy focusing on being ‘pretty’, she’d admitted under duress. The merciless mocking she’d received from Sasuke as a result had only hardened her to get better, and while she wasn’t anywhere near the skill of a clan kid, she’d never stopped gunning for him. One day, with luck and training, Sakura would catch up with him.

But this was  _ not  _ about that.

“I see you got to training without me,” came the sudden voice, and all three of them just about leapt out of their skin. Sasuke kept it to a sharp hiss of shock, and Sakura was on her feet in an instant and half a foot back, ready to fight. Hinata  _ shrieked. _ After a moment, Kakashi-sensei tilted his head in her direction, reached up to rub his ear with one hand, and said - as dryly as a man could manage - “Ow.”

Relaxing her stance, Sakura tipped her head; almost immediately, she deepened that into a bow. “We figured that we should make good use of our time while we waited,” she offered in response. Sasuke exchanged a glance with Hinata. Not that he would out her to their sensei, but Sakura hadn’t even  _ shown up _ until thirty minutes ago. She was almost as late as Kakashi.

Hinata bit her lip, squeaked again when Kakashi-sensei fixed her in a blank stare, and finally shook her head to deny the silent question. She broke a moment later and looked away, letting her bangs fall in front of her face.

An odd note was in Sakura’s voice as she spoke over whatever Kakashi-sensei had been about to say. “You should cut your hair, Hinata.” White eyes went wide. “You’d look great with short hair. And it won’t get in your way.”

“Says the girl with hair down to her ass,” Sasuke drawled back automatically. It didn’t stop the way his hand had gone tight at his side. Something about all this was wrong. She was  _ wrong. _ Even then, Sasuke didn’t actually mean anything by it. Sakura had worn her hair long for as long as he’d known her; even the ponytail today was a bold choice. Everyone had insecurities, and Sakura’s physical appearance was one of hers. She’d always worn her hair as a way to distract from the parts she was ashamed of.

Today, Sakura burst into laughter. Getting to her feet - still laughing away to herself - her hand dipped into her kunai holster and came out with a knife in reverse grip. Something like fear twinged in Sasuke’s stomach, complete uncertainty as to what she’d do with it. His friend wouldn’t hurt him - but right now, in one of her peculier moods,  _ was _ she his friend? With a big grin, Sakura reached back and tugged the ribbon out of her hair. Pink strands came loose before she gathered them all in her free hand and held them back. Intuition struck a split second too late.

With a grand sweeping gesture, Sakura reached back, swept the kunai through her hair, and then dropped the cut lengths at her feet. Shorter than her jaw, messy and jagged, her new haircut ruffled in the slight breeze. “Easy. Shall we get to it?”

For a long, long minute, nobody did anything. Kakashi-sensei stared at her, unblinking; Sasuke couldn’t read a damn thing about his expression through the mask and his hitai-ite. Hinata just looked on, absolutely speechless. Finally, Sakura fidgeted. As if it was some kind of cue, Kakashi took his gaze off her and smiled at them; or, Sasuke presumed he did by the way his one visible eye crinkled up at the corners.

Sasuke’s attention was diverted, even as Kakashi reached into one of his many pockets to pull out a pair of bells; they looked suspiciously similar to the kind of bells civilians attached to their cats. He knew, of course, just what lay underneath that slanted hitai-ite Kakashi-sensei wore. He’d always known, in a way - the murmurs had always been quiet but present in the Uchiha compound, when he’d been very young.  _ Kakashi of the Sharingan. Copy Ninja Kakashi. _ He was almost more famed for the Uchiha Kekkei Genkai than the Uchiha were. When Sasuke had been little, he’d liked the idea that the Sharingan he’d get one day were so fearsomely known; when he’d gotten a little older, in the Academy, he’d resented it. Kakashi-sensei was  _ not _ an Uchiha. He’d not only usurped their reputation, but he’d stolen a power rightfully theirs.

Now, he held more of a cautious respect for the man. Not an Uchiha, but welcome among them. Now, Sasuke understood that he’d received his Sharingan eye as a gift, and hadn’t stolen it from a murdered clanmate.  _ Now, _ Sasuke had seen him gain the blessing of the Clan Head, after the---

…

After the night he’d met Sakura. The rest of it didn’t bear thinking of.

Given all that, Sasuke had been… well,  _ excited _ to learn that he’d gotten Kakashi as his sensei. The whole Sharingan thing aside, Kakashi was so formidable a jōnin as to be infamous throughout Fire Country - and other countries, too. By rights, he should have been the most excited member of their team.

And there had gone Sakura, being weird.

“... until noon to try and take the bells from me,” Kakashi was saying. Mentally, Sasuke slapped himself.  _ Pay attention. _ “I advise that you each come at me with the intent to kill.” Kakashi-sensei’s voice darkened. “Against someone of my calibre, you will be hopelessly outclassed with anything less. Understood?”

All three of them nodded - Sasuke tried not to think about how alien Sakura looked with her hair in an uneven halo around her head - and Kakashi tilted his head. Turned on his heel to walk away;  _ turned his back on them. _

“One more thing.” Everyone paused. “Only the two of you who succeed in taking the bells will pass this test and become my genin. Whoever fails will go back to the Academy.”

In the resounding silence that followed, Kakashi tugged out a neon orange book, stuck his nose in the pages, and began calmly walking towards the large rock that marked the far side of the sparring circle. Slowly, so slowly, Sasuke and Hinata met each other’s gaze.

_ I can’t go back to the Academy. _

He almost felt guilty. Not an hour ago, he’d been training with Hinata so that they’d be viable teammates - and now, he was going to send her home. She had the potential for sure, but there was no way he was going to lose, and… well, Sakura was just  _ smarter. _ Even if she was… wrong… right now.

Between them, she let out a deep sigh. “Listen. We can sort out who gets the bells later - or I’ll take the hit, I don’t mind.” There was a little twitch in Sakura’s nose.  _ Liar. _ “But you two are from clans. You can’t go back to the Academy.” Chills chased sincere warmth, and Sasuke stayed silent. He had no idea what to feel about that, let alone say. She was right - and he did believe that she’d do whatever she could to spare him the humiliation of being failed by Hatake Kakashi - but… she’d always worked so hard. Surely she wouldn’t just throw it away for Hinata. They barely knew her.

Hinata was ashen. “I…” she managed, breathless. A bruise was starting to show faint blue on her jaw where Sasuke had hit her during sparring.

“Hey,” Sakura broke her thoughts sharply, putting her hands on Hinata’s shoulders and giving her a little shake. “You can do this. You  _ are _ good enough. I won’t let you be sent back, okay?” Steel in her voice, an absolute confidence that was utterly foreign - but something… familiar, there, after all. A compassion that Sasuke had never quite understood, but had learned to appreciate. And then, much softer; “I won’t do that to you, Hinata. Hiashi will never have to know.”

Cold lead dropped in Sasuke’s stomach. However suspicious he’d been earlier of the true cause of Hinata’s self-doubt, it was different hearing someone else say it out loud. The terrified paleness in Hinata’s face took on a tinge of sick colour.

But… all the same. “Are you sure?” he asked, voice low. No doubt Kakashi was eavesdropping on them, no matter that he seemed to be perfectly content lounging on top the rock in the morning sunlight, reading.

Sakura shook her head impatiently. “Of course. I’m clever, and I know a lot, but my physical skills are still very lacking in comparison to yours.” A flick of her fingers indicated that she meant both her clanborn teammates. “I don’t bring anyone shame for being sent back, and I can actually get some benefit out of it. Unlike you two. It’s only logical.”

He didn’t buy it. Oh, she sounded genuine, and her reasoning was sound; Sasuke didn’t think her incapable of such a deed by any margin. But the way she spoke was… almost dismissive. She wasn’t even  _ worried _ about it.

If she noticed his reticence, she ignored it. “But Kakashi-sensei is right. He’s way out of our league. We don’t stand a chance unless we team up t--”

“Are you going to stand around all morning?” came the sharp voice. Bored, mostly, but… an edge there, like he was disappointed. They almost got whiplash from turning to look at him. His eye was just visible over the top of his open book. “You know that more than one of you can fail?”

Only a tight grip on Sasuke’s arm kept him from leaping into action. Sakura was right - he didn’t stand a chance against Kakashi. But he had to  _ try. _

“Let go,” he hissed, tugging - her fingers tightened, and pain lanced down to his elbow. The wince was incidental to the shocked glance. When the hell had Sakura gotten so… strong? She’d  _ just _ admitted it was her physical prowess that was lacking.

At least she had the decency to look guilty as she did as asked. “We have to fight him together. Trying to overwhelm him with numbers is our only shot. I have a few ideas, if you guys are interested.” Hinata just nodded. She had nothing to lose, and she didn’t seem to be breathing at all properly. If there was anything except a panicked mess inside that head, Sasuke would eat his hitai-ite.

But he didn’t have anything to lose either. Sakura was smart. “... Okay. What’s your plan?”

* * *

Sakura was careful to keep her language simple while she laid out her idea for attack. There was absolutely no doubt that Kakashi was listening to it, judging them, but that was part of the  _ real _ plan. She wasn’t afraid of being sent back to the Academy - either they’d pass together, or none of them would. It really was cheating to know ahead of time what Kakashi was really testing them for, but the shinobi world was a duplicitous place.

Besides… she’d learned that lesson from him good and well, all those years ago.

Still, Kakashi pretended to lounge on the rock as they broke huddle and separated out. Stepping back quietly, Hinata activated her Byakugan to watch, and Sasuke and Sakura started creeping around opposite sides of him. There was no point trying to move without him seeing them - they were fully in the open, he’d had eyes on them already, and besides none of them could yet move anywhere near fast enough to outpace him.

It was nostalgic, as she quietly moved into her position. Thinking about the first time she’d taken this test was… strange. She’d never had cause to fully analyse that day before - not like this. Every other time she’d done it, it had been only a small part of the litany of things she had done  _ wrong. _ All the way she’d failed her brothers. All the ways she’d failed Sasuke.  _ But not this Sasuke. And not this time. _

If she was honest, Kakashi shouldn’t have passed them, that first time. They’d shown only the barest shred of working together - and even then, what part of it Sakura had had was due purely to naive idol-worship. If Sasuke hadn’t chosen to share his food with Naruto, Sakura would have left him tied to the training post to rot. They’d had no business being passed on  _ teamwork. _

Whatever Kakashi had seen in them, whether it had been a dark reflection of himself in the last Uchiha heir, or if it had been the lost vestiges of his own sensei in the Yondaime Hokage’s son, Sakura had been a lucky bystander to be caught up in it. This time, she wouldn’t let them down. This time, she  _ wouldn’t _ be the weak link. And this time, even if she didn’t know where Naruto was and Hinata had taken his place at her side, she wouldn’t let her team get hurt.

Kakashi got to his feet as they circled him, but he didn’t move from the rock. Instead, he made a show of yawning so widely that they could see it through his mask. “Working together, eh? You do know that you can’t all share the bells.”

Something cold settled under Sakura’s ribcage. It sounded like Kakashi, and he didn’t seem… angry. If anything, he sounded curious. She couldn’t even quite name what it was that made her hair stand up on end (not the welcome feeling of the faint breeze at her neck, the sudden familiar freedom of having it short again), but there was just… something. Experienced ninja lost or saved lives based on gut feeling; she didn’t dare dismiss it. But without something to point at, all she could do was move cautiously, and remain vigilant. Chakra hummed under her skin.

Across from her, Sasuke made his first handsign. Fingers tightened on the kunai in each hand, a glance back to make sure Hinata was focused. One of the new memories flickered forward as she questioned herself; Sasuke was fast enough. Compared to what she was used to, compared to Kakashi, he was slow as dirt - but he was fast  _ enough. _

He worked through the handsigns, and Sakura hurled the kunai outwards, covering the two open points of the diamond they were trying to put around their sensei. His book didn’t dip even a little bit, but Sakura saw the faint narrowing of his expression.

He’d be proud of their teamwork, afterwards.

Surely.

As Sasuke finished muttering the activation phrase to himself - too quiet for Sakura to hear, perhaps even too quiet for Kakashi to hear, although she knew he’d recognise the seals just as easily as she did - Sakura drew back her fist and let her chakra flush into it. Humming silently, she built it up, drew more than she wanted to, tightened her control of its flow. She had less to work with than she was used to. She’d have to compromise unless she wanted to blow the possibility of another strike.

Then she forced more chakra into her fist. They wouldn’t get another strike, but hopefully, they wouldn’t need one.

_ “Now!” _

Hinata’s voice was weak, but it carried far enough. At the exact moment Sasuke finished and cupped his hands to direct his ninjutsu, Hinata made a single activation sign and Sakura brought her fist down into the earth as hard as she possibly could.

Lots of things happened at once.

On either side, the two kunai Sakura had thrown gave a single pathetic curl of grey smoke each and then the boomtags attached to their hilts erupted as Hinata set them off. In front of Kakashi, Sasuke breathed his chakra into fire and the signature Uchiha fireball bloomed out in a barely controlled spin.

Behind him, Sakura sent all her coiled chakra through her fist and into the ground in as short and wide a band as she could manage. Pain blew open in her hand and shot up her arm, and despite herself she let out a noise of protest.  _ I’d forgotten how bad it hurt at first. _ This body wasn’t trained for this kind of combat. These hands had never spent hours and hours punching at training posts and - later - boulders to build up the resilience to perform these attacks without crippling herself.

Too late, she remembered her own new limits. Once again, too late, she saw how vastly she was overestimating herself.

The explosive tags sent smoke in all directions, and while Sasuke’s fireball burnt it away, it spun out of control as he ran out of air and then flashboiled into acrid black smoke to replace it. The ground cracked like thunder under Sakura’s assault and shards of jagged rock exploded outwards, followed by a cloud of dust that choked the air. In the midst of that, Sakura saw Hinata rock on her feet and then shoot into the mess as fast as she could.

_ Brave. Well done, Hinata. I’m proud of you. _

Even if it didn’t work, she’d upheld her part of the plan. She’d gone in despite being terrified. If Sakura had been their sensei, she’d have passed Hinata on that fact alone.

She didn’t see Kakashi jump. She didn’t see how the mess they’d made resolved as she fell back and cradled her hand to her chest. When, squinting, she finally saw through the smoke and the dust and the mayhem-- Kakashi was standing on the far side of the river that wound through the training ground and its neighbouring ones, glittering peacefully beyond the rock he’d lounged on. Held in one arm was Hinata - her hands held by the wrists by one of Kakashi’s. Sakura could see her trembling from here.

For a moment, Sakura felt relief. They hadn’t succeeded, but she hadn’t expected to; what mattered was the execution of their teamwork, and their combined efforts had forced Kakashi to put his Icha Icha book away and take Hinata with him.

Then there was guilt. They’d endangered Hinata. Yes, she’d been brave - but they’d been stupid.  **_I_ ** _ was stupid. _ Too much power put into a technique she’d never performed in this body, that she wasn’t prepared to control. Too much trust put into Sasuke’s ability to perform a clean fire release when Sakura knew damn well his chakra held a lightning affinity, when he hadn’t had years of practice and brutal training, when he  _ didn’t even have his Sharingan _ \-- He wasn’t the creature of immense power she recognised him as. Hinata wasn’t the battle-hardened warrior who knew exactly what was worth giving her life for.

_ I’m not as strong as I think I am. _

But they were only genin. Perfect analysis and execution of a battle wasn’t expected of them. They’d fucked it up -  **_I_ ** _ fucked it up, it was  _ **_me_ ** \- but they’d tried their best. They’d worked together. If Kakashi had passed the first, disastrous Team Seven, he’d pass this one.

That certainty bled into sick confusion as Kakashi set Hinata on her feet, leaned down to murmur in her ear, and let her sink slowly to her knees. There was no smile in his face, walking with eerie calm across the surface of the river towards Sakura where she was sitting on the ground, towards Sasuke leaning forward with hands on his knees and trying to lick off the scorch marks kissing his lips. There was no amused exasperation that they’d fucked up a team plan that badly.

He approached Sasuke. Instead of leaning down he folded his arms, considered for a moment, and spoke. Just barely, Sakura picked it up. “A desperation play doesn’t suit you. Letting your teammates take the majority of the risk? How very sporting, for a proud Uchiha.”

Confusion became a numbing cold.

She could barely feel the pain in her hand as Kakashi came to stand before her; tilted her head up obediently, to look him in the face, but everything was blurred and distant. Her hearing felt wrong - if she’d not just heard him speak to Sasuke, she’d have thought the boomtags had sent it skittering away. Each breath felt like frost in her lungs.

This wasn’t right. This wasn’t how he was supposed to… Why did he sound so…  _ angry? _ Kakashi had held a wounded spirit far before she’d first met him, but he was… kind, at heart. He could be ruthless and cunning and merciless when needed, but whenever he could… he chose to be kind. She’d thought he’d value their teamwork, no matter how badly they did. She’d thought he’d sigh and tease them and quietly protect them like he was supposed to. Like he had before.

He wasn’t supposed to react like  _ this. _

The silence stretched out, and slowly, Sakura managed to focus on his face. His eye was glittering and cold; a scowl hid behind his mask.

“I…” She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t even know what to do. She’d made a mistake, obviously, but… but it wasn’t  _ this _ bad. Why was Kakashi staring at her like she was an enemy? “I’m… sorry…” Was that it? Did he want her to acknowledge she’d fucked up? It slipped out of its own accord as she clamped down on the thought and held it with suffocating desperation. “I’m sorry. I screwed up. I didn’t mean to… I didn’t want to put Hinata in danger. I screwed it up.”

Why couldn’t she  _ think? _ Was the anxious aura that hung around every one of her strange new memories really that strong?

“You could have killed her.” There was a distant, chilling boredom to Kakashi’s voice. As if he didn’t care that a genin could have died.  _ I could have  _ **_killed_ ** _ her? No, I… _ Feeling sick, Sakura looked properly at the settling ground. Where she’d struck there was a narrow depression, barely wider than her fist and no deeper than two or three fingers.

Beyond that, in razed points like a Bijuu’s teeth, were perfectly sharp rows of rock that fully eclipsed the centre of their diamond, and tore the original big rock apart. Even further, the smallest of them stuck out of the ground barely two metres short of where Sasuke still stood, hands clenched, and trembling with anger.

She’d felt where to stop pouring chakra into her attack, and she’d kept going.

Stinging made itself known in Sakura’s eyes.

“All of you!” Kakashi barked suddenly, lifting his head and giving a sweeping look across the mess they’d made. “Over to the training posts. Now.” He didn’t yell, but his voice cleared the air between them with ease. Nobody dared disobey; still trembling, Sasuke stomped past without looking up from the ground. Hinata swam the river, and came out shivering into the late morning sun, hugging herself while she slunk towards the three posts. Still cradling her hand, unblinking, Sakura hauled herself to her feet and quietly stumbled after them.

_ What a pathetic sight we make, _ she thought distantly.

Only now, as she sat down beside her team, did she realise that the conspicuous bag she’d expected to carry the taunting lunch was nowhere to be found.

Without a word of further criticism, Kakashi half-knelt by Sasuke and pulled out a small, round container. “Smear this on your lips and hands. It will ease the burning.” Then he got up and turned to Sakura. Despite herself, as things started to become real again and the pain came roaring back, she flinched when he knelt by her next. Escaped tears streaked down her face like traitors fleeing capture. She still couldn’t pick up a proper expression through the mask - couldn’t find the faint crinkly smile no matter how hard she looked. “Show me.” It was an order. Despite herself, she held out her hand.

It wasn’t as bad as it felt, the calm med-nin part of herself observed. Kakashi’s hands were gentle on hers, slowly flexing out her fingers and feeling along her metacarpal bones. Blood stained most of her hand, and she’d ripped the skin right off her cracked knuckles. If she was unlucky, she might have broken one finger. But even without being prepared to handle as much sheer force as she’d put through her punch, she knew how to throw one. Her wrist ached, and the whole of her forearm was throbbing, but Kakashi passed probing fingers over the carpal bones and then pressed against her radius and ulna and she didn’t feel any telltale movement. She’d bruise something fierce, but they weren’t broken. Once Kakashi was assured of this, he pulled out a field dressing from-- somewhere. Even now Sakura wasn’t certain just how many useful things he had tucked away in his flak jacket. The bandage went around her wrist and then her hand in semi-pressured loops, and finally one more up around her neck and back down to secure it. “Don’t move it around.” She felt the briefest touch of his chakra to stick it down and prevent it from unravelling before he was already moving away and turning to Hinata.

Good form.  _ It won’t last more than an hour or two, but it’s a good temporary fix. _

“Eat this.” Sakura caught the flash of foil, and then Kakashi had broken something off with a  _ snap _ and handed it to Hinata. A moment later, Sakura smelled chocolate. “When you get home, get dry and warm before you do anything else. That is an order.”

And he stood up again.

Slowly, the cold began to ease.  _ Different. _ But somewhere underneath, he was still there. Something recognisable, a conflict between the kind man she’d always seen Kakashi try to be and the cruel iciness she’d been told he’d embraced as a child.  _ Different, but not gone. He can’t be gone. _

“Obviously, this was an unmitigated failure. Not only did you  _ not _ take the bells from me, but you put yourselves in danger to do it. One of you is no longer capable of fighting for them.” Sakura felt very small. Surely, he wouldn’t carry out his threat. Surely he wouldn’t fail them. Maybe her forfeit meant they passed by default; she swallowed the urge to defend herself. She could absolutely fight if she had to - but she didn’t. This wasn’t  _ real. _ It was just a test, and they were just supposed to be genin. She’d already decided how to explain how she even  _ knew _ the technique, but…

Next to them, Hinata sniffled as she nibbled on the chocolate.

Another long minute passed as Kakashi just studied them. “But…” A heartbeat like a fluttering bird. “... You worked together.” Hope bloomed like fire in her chest. “As ill-advised and dangerous as your plan was, you executed it.” And just like the first time, even though Sakura had been so sure she’d been prepared for it, the relief when he spoke made her dizzy. “You pass.”

Sasuke stayed silent, scowling, processing that. Hinata squeaked, and then let out a shaking breath as tears started tumbling down her cheeks. They could have been shock or relief or both. Maybe she was just overwhelmed by how quickly the day had imploded around them. Numbly, Sakura stared at nothing.  _ How close, really, did I come to screwing this up? _ She couldn’t even guess.

“You two. Get home, we’re done for the day. I expect you back here at eight tomorrow morning.” The hostility in his tone had dampened back down to neutrality, but Sasuke and Hinata didn’t need telling twice. She scampered to her feet and took off immediately; he was slower, but he glanced back only once before taking his leave, still dabbing whatever ointment was in the little round case onto the burns on his hands. For a long minute, until they were gone, Kakashi and Sakura just stared at each other. “You’re going to need to come to see the med-nins to have that properly looked at.” Still painfully even.

So she just nodded.

“Get up.” She tried not to rush, keeping her damaged hand held close to her chest where the field bandage was loosely holding it, but she didn’t dally about it. The flares of pain where it moved were nothing compared to everything else.

Things were different. Things had changed. She still hadn’t managed to get it all straightened out in her head, and that was only the things she knew personally from whatever new childhood she’d had. There was so much more that she didn’t know, so much more she hadn’t even thought about yet. Things were different, but she’d assumed that it was still her home, that Sasuke was still her brother, that Kakashi would still be  _ there _ for her.

But things were different. This whole world would never be the one she’d abandoned to try and save. It wasn’t  _ hers. _

The wave of loneliness that swept through her tore its way through every mental defence she’d ever constructed, and without warning she found herself - once again - sobbing. Years of discipline were all that kept her on her feet, and - lacking them - her body swayed. Her free hand went to her face and rubbed at her eyes, but it was a fruitless endeavour.

Sakura would have given anything -  _ everything _ \- for Naruto to put his arms too tight around her and squeeze.

In silence, Kakashi stood a few paces away and let her cry it out. Eventually, it slowed. Strangled sobbing eased to whimpered hiccups eased to quiet sniffling. When finally, she was left standing in equal silence and feeling as if she’d had the soul stripped out of her, one narrow hand entered her field of vision. A tissue fluttered from between two fingers.

“... Thanks,” she managed, a hoarse little whisper, reaching to take it. Sakura kept her head down while she cleaned off her face. She didn’t want to see what Kakashi thought of her - if, indeed, she even would. Another sniff.

She felt the air change, as Kakashi reined in his chakra. It had been a steady pressure, just barely there at the edge of her senses, something she was so used to sensing that she took no notice until it changed. Finally, as it tightened and coiled into itself, becoming almost undetectable, she looked up. One black eye and one red eye met her gaze. Almost instantly, she was paralysed.

Despite everything, panic flooded her body. She was as skilled as any jōnin at breaking genjutsu, but Sharingan was different. Motionless in her own skin, she struggled against the red as it became the only sharp point of focus.  _ Kakashi wouldn’t hurt me-- _ but the frantic thought vapourised under the cold, crimson stare.

And for a long minute, there was nothing.

Kakashi blinked first, and as the connection broke Sakura’s knees gave out from under her and she crumpled to the ground, squeezing her eyes shut. The inside of her eyelids lit up neon with the afterimage of Kakashi’s Sharingan. She was shaking, she was sure, but she barely felt it. “... Why?” Her voice cracked.

The sigh was deep and slow. “... I apologise.” With an immense effort of will, she made herself look at him. His hitai-ite was pulled down again, covering his inherited eye; the frown on his face was just as heavy as his sigh had been. “I had to be sure. You… are not the person your file said you are.”

It felt like a crack in an iceberg, so far down that it could only be felt and not seen, but understanding split through every other emotion. “You thought I was an imposter,” she murmured quietly. Then - a sharp noise, too painful to be a laugh.  _ How ironic. _ Sakura was starting to suspect that she might very well be just that.

Kakashi hummed an affirmation. There was still no warmth in his eye. “You owe me an explanation. Graduating does not award instant improvement. And you don’t behave like a fresh genin.”  _ Or at least, _ Sakura silently amended,  _ not one from my generation. _ She’d grown up in peace. Until the end, she’d never known war. Not like Kakashi had - not like the generation before her had. Not like the one after her.

But there was no explanation she could give. The truth…. Itachi flashed before her eyes. The truth was not an option. Kakashi would never believe her - and even if he did, all she had to look forward to was the Anbu and endless interrogation. She’d already made this decision. All that had stopped her from hunting down Itachi the night before was that despite the lingering memory-dream she had of him, of marching right into the Uchiha compound when it had still been all but annexed, was that in every other memory he appeared in, he’d seemed… normal. He’d never attempted to speak with her about it.

She still needed to find out what had happened there, but it could wait. And she certainly couldn’t do it while she was this clumsy, while Kakashi was so suspicious of her.  _ My fault. It’s my own fault. _

“Where did you learn that technique?” with an indication to the broken earth behind her. Sakura didn’t look back at it.

Frantically trying to drag together her own will, Sakura braced herself to lie. “I… I read about it. It’s one of Tsunade-sama’s… right? I thought… I thought I’d be able to do it. My chakra control scores were always my best. I… want to be like her someday.” It wasn’t an unreasonable statement. Tsunade was the Hokage (almost a year before her time-- longer, if Sakura sifted through her memories. She’d been Hokage for little more than five years). Lots of shinobi aimed to be like her.

_ Naruto… where are you? _

Kakashi studied her intently. Finally, he sighed and scrubbed his face with his hand. “... Alright. And I suppose you learned about how to search for chakra signatures in a book, too.” Flatly, but he held out a hand and - when she took it tremulously - hauled her to her feet. She wasn’t steady, but she stayed up.

“Yes, Kakashi-sensei.” Small. It wasn’t entirely an act - but if she acted as awful as she felt, then maybe he would believe her. “I… I don’t really know how to… pick apart what I’m sensing, yet.”

She shouldn’t embellish, but it was closer to what she should be capable of while just picking up the idea of it. She remembered the first time she’d learned it, under Kakashi’s quiet coaxing. Then, thinking of how quickly she'd looked for him yesterday, she wondered if she ought to have just said nothing.

“... Can you walk?” A nod, and Sakura took a step forward - and promptly toppled right into Kakashi’s arms. “First official lesson,” he said darkly, picking her up. There was tension in his arms, more than just her meagre weight: discomfort. “Don’t ever lie to me.”

He’d already leapt away towards the small shinobi walk-in center by the time she could draw breath. “Yes, Sensei.” Once again, she reminded herself; she wasn’t the person she remembered being. Not anymore. Maybe it would never sink in. But, finally, she had a moment to spare - and Kakashi couldn’t avoid the question while he was carrying her. “Sensei?” It got her a faint grunt.

It would have to do.

“... Where… Where’s Uzumaki Naruto?”


	4. A Day in the Life of a Konoha Jōnin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every team starts somewhere.

_I’m getting soft,_ Itachi thought to himself as he dragged himself out of bed and threw on a loose shirt and the first pair of pants he could get his hands on. Early mornings - even this early, a little before dawn - were not an unfamiliar feeling to him, but it had been a long time since Anbu and ROOT, and he’d let himself get used to slightly later wake ups. Itachi sighed to himself as he padded downstairs as quietly as he could, careful not to wake any of his still-sleeping family. The little flicker of envy as he slipped on his most casual pair of shoes and left the house only further cemented the sentiment. He needed to push himself harder.

Not that sneaking out posed a problem to him, as he broke into a swift jog and then threw chakra into body flickering once out of the central Uchiha grounds, but the fact he had to  _ convince _ himself to get out of his (nice, warm, comfy) bed at all went to show how much of his prior training he’d lost. His mother would say that it was a good thing, he mused, but he wasn’t so convinced. Sasuke would probably just laugh at him. Unbidden, a little smile played about his face as he made his way towards the artisans’ district of Konoha. Maybe it wasn’t  _ so _ bad, if he let himself get a little used to comfort.

It was for a worthy cause anyway, flashing across the buildings and finally dropping back down to street level. Most of the businesses here were only just starting to open up now, and not yet to the public. Konoha held weird hours at the best of times, of course - it was hard to cater to a ninja village and keep what Itachi understood to be ‘normal’ civilian hours - but even so, it was yet too early for anything but custom orders.

Lucky for him, as Itachi approached the most trusted forgemaster in the village and paused at the door. The family who ran the forge only offered their services to shinobi - and that made sense, given that almost every order for specialised weapons or chakra metal Konoha had to make went through them. Not only did that keep them busy, it kept them wealthy.

_ Besides, _ as he lifted a hand and knocked on the specially-built doorbell at the side of the entrance, sending a little pulse of chakra through it.  _ Civilian orders must be exceedingly uninteresting compared to shinobi ones. _ The faint chiming of a bell reached Itachi’s ears, and not a minute later the family’s elder daughter was opening the door. Still in her bedclothes, she was rubbing her eyes but offered Itachi a big smile when she saw him.

“Uchiha-san,” she greeted him, stifling a yawn and stepping back to let him in. “Is this about those shuriken?” A note of mischief in her voice; she thought the early hour of his visit amusing. Or perhaps she just wondered if he had another outstandingly specific order to place.

“Indeed,” he confirmed instead, stepping in and casting a glance around the relatively small shop. Several examples of expertly forged steel hung on the walls and sat displayed on stands, though even Itachi could recognise the subpar quality of the metal. It didn’t worry him; that the display pieces showed their mastery without providing the temptation of theft to any less-than-scrupulous Konoha-nin was only a logical precaution. Not that any ninja with half a brain would steal from the Niikura hearth.

She made her way back around to the counter and pulled out a heavy book from underneath it, flipping through with the ease of long familiarity. When she reached the relevant page, she ran a finger down the list until she came to Itachi’s name. “Mmmm okay, you’re all settled up.” Good thing too, because he had zero desire to waste time on sorting out payment this early in the morning. Closing the book, she inclined her head. “Just a moment.”

It was indeed only a few moments later that she came back out carrying a medium-sized package wrapped in nondescript brown paper and tied shut with deceptively narrow twine. Flashing him that same smile, she handed it over. “There. Six of them, all completely unattuned. Please don’t hesitate to return should there be anything you’re not satisfied with.” Itachi nodded, and tucked the package under his arm. It was soft and squishy underneath the paper; properly wrapped and protected, by the feel. “Have a good day, Uchiha-san,” she called after him as he made to leave, and he glanced back over his shoulder.

Politeness dictated that he return the platitude, but it caught on his tongue in the same strange way they always did, so he simply nodded again and walked out. She snickered at his back, followed him to lock the door, and disappeared into the inner workings of the house. Sighing, Itachi shook himself off and body flickered back up to the rooftops, flitting back across Konoha towards home.

It would have been far more convenient to just take it when it had first been completed and keep it hidden at home, but the risk had been too great that inquisitive little Sasuke would poke his nose around and find it. Even the thought brought another lingering smile, as Itachi touched down into the Uchiha grounds and let himself simply walk home. No matter what small inconveniences it brought, the result would be worth it all; even the sizeable chunk it had carved out of his wallet. For all that he’d found he truly didn’t miss the rigorous, cutthroat life of the Anbu, Itachi had very much learned to appreciate the paychecks that went with it.

Opening the door and getting back inside was harder than sneaking out; as it went, even as stealthy as he was, Itachi walked right into his mother’s gaze as he passed back through the living room and froze. Mikoto raised an eyebrow at him, but amusement played at the edges of her expression.

“Good morning, ‘tachi,” she chuckled, setting down what breakfast preparation she’d already done and approaching him. “A little early for a stroll.” A critical eye was cast over his far-too-casual clothes.

Damn. He should have bothered with something more presentable.

Shrugging, Itachi indicated the package under his arm. “I had an errand to run. Did you sleep well, Mother?” The faintest brush of Itachi’s chakra swelled through the house, searching for Sasuke’s signature; he found it, still calm and steady upstairs, asleep. Mikoto’s other eyebrow went up.

“Yes, thank you. I assume that wasn’t  _ my _ chakra you were hunting for?” Of course she’d felt it, even as gentle as the touch had been. Itachi couldn’t help the warmth in his chest; next to it curdled the echo of cold that he hadn’t been able to shake, even after all this time.  _ If I had fought her, would I have won? _ He swallowed the question.

Gaze darting to the stairwell briefly, he shook his head. “It’s… a celebration gift. For Sasuke.” Kept his voice low, even assured that his brother still slept and in fact  _ wasn’t _ eavesdropping. Again.

Mikoto broke into a dazzling smile. “That’s an excellent idea.” One arm went around Itachi’s shoulders and he leaned into the hug; it was always easier not to fight it, even if he sometimes wanted to.

…

Always wanted to, though it still felt nice, the proximity. The evident love in it.

“So what is it?” she asked, poking the package with one finger. Frowning at her, Itachi transferred it to his other arm. There was no harm in telling her, of course - but paranoia frayed at the edge of every thought, and Itachi didn’t want to say anything more aloud. Sasuke was asleep, in his room, but there was  _ always _ the chance that Itachi was wrong, and he was loathe to spoil the surprise.

So he shook his head again. “You’ll see soon enough, Mother.”

Mikoto laughed and ruffled his hair. Quickly, Itachi ducked away from the ministrations. “Alright, ‘tachi. Keep your secrets. See you for breakfast in half an hour, alright?” She went back to her previous work; Itachi recognised the components to Sasuke’s favourite breakfast as his gaze followed her. It seemed he wasn’t the only one giving Sasuke a celebration.

With a small smile, he made his way back up into his own room. Setting the package down on his bed, Itachi went over to his desk and pulled out a brush, an inkwell, and a blank scroll. It had been a while since he’d done more than simply repair or update his own storage scrolls, but the technique was simple enough; so basic that it was amongst those taught to Academy students.

Itachi paused. Maybe it could be beneficial to have Sasuke create the storage scroll for himself…?

A moment later, Itachi discarded the thought. Time and effort better spent elsewhere - and in any case, it wasn’t as if Sasuke could spare the time to do so this morning. He had a team to meet, just the same as Itachi did.

(He tried very hard not to think about that for now).

If he’d done this yesterday afternoon as he’d initially planned, they would have had the time, but Sasuke had been in a foul mood when he’d arrived home. Even with the news that he’d passed Kakashi-senpai’s test and was officially on his team, he’d been so dour that Itachi had thought it best to wait. Tiny threads of chakra spiralled down the special brush and into the ink, reacting as he mapped out the circles and lines for the Seal. Sasuke hadn’t been forthcoming as to why he’d been so curt with them, even when Itachi had asked and Mikoto had needled him about it. The end result had been Sasuke skipping dinner altogether and hiding in his room - even after skipping breakfast on Kakashi’s order and presumably having missed lunch.

Maybe that was why Itachi had gone out of his way to do this in the morning, then. He didn’t know if Sasuke would be cheerier today or not, but surely he would brighten now. A smaller brush came out to mark the kanji around the edges of the Seal, even thinner chakra strands woven into the strokes. It didn’t need much to properly react and set, and Itachi had better control than most.

By the time he was done, and he’d risen to quickly wash the ink out of his brushes, Sasuke was awake. He hadn’t emerged yet, but Itachi could hear his tread in his bedroom, and the quiet little  _ tch _ as he presumably tried to pick out clothes for the day. He still wasn’t out when Itachi crossed back from their bathroom to put his brushes away; stifling a chuckle, Itachi put his things away and held a hand over the freshly inked Seal. Moulding his chakra into heat was the work of a moment. Already carrying a fire affinity, it bloomed into real heat without the need to apply any force, and he slowly waved his palm back and forth across the scroll, drying and setting the ink.

That would be a good idea, actually, when he met his team at the training ground today. It would be worth running through what things the Academy taught that they were individually capable of. Even if he only needed to do this with the two newcomers, it would be a fairly straightforward way of getting them familiar with each other. Even this jutsu was, technically, an Academy-taught one, though—

Itachi grimaced. Usually even such a simple technique as this required a handsign; he hadn’t had to use one for it since it first cropped up in a lesson. He’d been five, at the time. Not for the first time, Itachi cursed his own innate talent. Life would have been so much…  _ easier, _ if he’d merely been  **good** instead of… whatever he was. That in mind, he made a note to get a comprehensive list of the Academy curriculum before heading over to meet his students. He wasn’t even certain  _ what _ was Academy standard. Suddenly, his own memories on the matter seemed unreliable. Knowing what his students were supposed to know was a step towards figuring out what - and how - to teach them. Even if he had no clue how to explain the steps of casting a jutsu through its seals when he himself didn’t need them.

_ Why did Tsunade give me  _ **_genin?_ **

He was going to ruin these children.

Putting all that aside for now, Itachi gave one more sweep of heat to the scroll, relaxed his chakra, and picked up the package from his bed. A moment of hesitation, and then he shrugged and stowed the whole thing. Might as well let Sasuke have the fun of unwrapping it. Itachi rolled up the scroll, quickly dug around to put together a proper attire for the day, and then finally made his way back downstairs.

Sasuke was already waiting impatiently for him, while Mikoto finished setting up breakfast. “About time,” Sasuke griped to him, as he came and sat down, and Itachi had to fight down a soft laugh. “I’m never up before you. What happened?” There was just the faintest hint of concern in his brother’s voice; Itachi let the smile show.

“You weren’t. I had something to do this morning.” Itachi waved the scroll. As sharp as ever, Sasuke’s gaze fixed onto it curiously.

Further questions were aborted as Mikoto came and sat with them. A short congratulations followed - Itachi murmured his own, but left it at that - and relief washed through him as Sasuke grinned in response. Whatever had upset him yesterday was apparently forgotten; or if not, suitably pushed aside for now. “I never knew Kakashi-sensei was such an asshole,” Sasuke complained halfway through eating, causing Mikoto to choke on a mixture of laughter and food. He smirked. “Seriously. He’s always seemed so… I don’t know,  _ relaxed _ when he’s here.”

Through her continued snickering, Mikoto waved her chopsticks at him. “How was he ‘an asshole’?” Thank the gods that she was amused by the mild curse and not angry.

Sasuke’s smirk turned into a scowl in an instant, and he stabbed at his food. “... He… basically told me I was a coward.” Through gritted teeth. Internally, Itachi sighed - he kept eating steadily, unsurprised by the harsh treatment Sasuke must have received during his genin test. He should have expected it, really - he should have  _ guessed _ that was why Sasuke had been so upset. Kakashi-senpai’s methods for breaking in new team members had been nasty - if well-intended - back when he’d been Itachi’s captain in the Anbu. In all the years and with all the suffering that had happened since, it was hard to imagine that they’d gotten softer.

Fumbling for the right words, Itachi kept his eyes down and picked through his breakfast. “Try not to take it personally. He… It was a  _ test _ for a reason. You passed - which is what matters.” A quick glance up, to try and gauge if he’d actually helped. Sasuke was studying him intently, but the moment their eyes met he gave a huff and looked away.

“I guess.” Mumbled. Still, the rest of breakfast went by smoothly enough, while Sasuke recounted the bell test in disjointed fragments. Itachi wasn’t sure if Sasuke noticed when he and Mikoto shared a startled look, as he explained the way Sakura had punched the ground, and the ground had erupted. If he did, he didn’t mention it; but his tone soured a little more after that. “... Sakura was in one of her weird moods, yesterday,” he finally volunteered, dropping his chopsticks into his bowl with a clatter and leaning back slightly.

Breakfast was done, then. “That’s unfortunate,” Mikoto soothed easily, setting down her own utensils. “But it must be nice to have her on your team.” Sasuke just grunted. “Mm. Well, what do you think of Hinata?”

Itachi couldn’t really identify the exact emotion that flashed through him at that, but it was… nice, he supposed. It was almost impossible to mention any member of the Hyuuga clan - even the children, who’d not done anything to offend the Uchihas in their life - without starting a row of some sort. No public or official action was ever taken against them (out of fear for what Mikoto would do to the offenders), but there was no love lost between their clans. Mikoto held no such prejudice in her tone when she brought up Sasuke’s second teammate. It was… refreshing.

With any luck, Sasuke could avoid the bitterness that would break out amongst their peers when word got around that he had been teamed with the current Hyuuga heir. There was doubtless going to be an abundance of it.

Sasuke just shrugged. “She’s… fine. Too shy. If she doesn’t figure it out soon, she’s going to get herself killed.” But there was no accompanying anger in his voice. Whatever that meant, Itachi hoped that it would foster cooperation between them. With any luck, Sasuke would learn how critical his team was much faster than Itachi had.

“Before you go,” he intoned quickly as Sasuke made to stand. When he hesitated - one eyebrow arched in perfect imitation of their mother’s that morning - Itachi fought the urge to snicker at him. He hadn’t sat back down, just paused in what had to be a supremely uncomfortable position. “I have something for you.”  _ Now _ Sasuke sat back down, eyes widening as Itachi offered him the scroll. “For passing your graduation exam, and Kakashi-senpai’s bell test.”

Quite eagerly, Sasuke moved back and opened the scroll, flexing his hand before applying chakra to the Seal and making the brown package appear in a puff of smoke. He rolled his eyes as the smoke cleared. “So what is it?” But he was already ripping open the paper, so Itachi didn’t bother answering. Underneath were sheets of newspaper scrunched up into loose balls to provide some cushioning, and slowly Sasuke picked out six small hexagonal pouches. There were little notches fastened to the back of each one, and when he opened the first, the faint glint of metal lined the inside.

He let out an excited noise as he lifted out the shuriken; slightly larger than standard issue, with five points instead of four. The edge, running the full length of the star, was a faintly paler metal than the rest of it, fused to the core with expert precision.

“That’s chakra metal,” Mikoto observed, surprise in her voice. When Itachi looked, she was watching him with slightly widened eyes. “How long ago did you commission these, Itachi?”

A faint coil of embarrassment rose in his chest, although he wasn’t entirely sure what he had to be embarrassed about. “... Six months,” he admitted, sheepish. “I knew Sasuke would pass.”

Whatever lingering gloom had been about Sasuke vanished, and he held the shuriken up to inspect closer, big grin in place. “This is really chakra metal?” he asked in delight. Itachi merely nodded, smiling quietly to himself. The possibility of Sasuke rejecting the gift had been a heavy weight, he realised now as it lifted. “So… it’s not attuned?”

“Of course not,” Itachi intoned, pushing back against the almost fragile note of hope in Sasuke’s voice. “They’re yours. You should attune them.” A pause. “Besides which,  _ I _ couldn’t do it for you. My affinity is fire.” And that had been a surprise in its own right, when Sasuke had come home after passing his graduation exam and been so nervous that Mikoto had bribed it out of him: his chakra affinity wasn’t the typical Uchiha fire, but rather lightning. Needless to say, he’d been quickly disillusioned of the idea that he’d face repercussions for such a thing. Even if it  _ had _ been in his control, the idea of Uchiha ‘purity’ was ridiculous and redundant to begin with.

Sasuke refocused on the shuriken in his hand and grinned before pushing a bit of chakra into it. The edge flashed and then crackled. Lightning flickered along it, snapping with a sound like diluted thunder, and then the shuriken returned to normal. Sasuke laughed. “Thank you, Itachi!” he crowed, slipping the shuriken back into its pouch and starting to pull out all the others so he could attune them to lightning. “These are great.”

That was enough. The early morning was  _ definitely _ worth it. Smiling back, Itachi stretched and then got to his feet. “Keep the scroll. I’d recommend only carrying one or two on your holster; your enemy is never more vulnerable than when they think they’ve defeated you.” Bright-eyed, Sasuke glanced up and gave him a crooked grin.

“Yeah, yeah. Thanks, ‘tachi.”

As much as he wanted to stick around and watch Sasuke adjust to carrying the shuriken, or even help him learn how to handle the different weight and balance of them, Itachi  _ did _ have a team of his own to meet. He was starting to push the time as it was - he still needed to go and collect a copy of Academy curricula. “I’ll see you tonight. Thank you for breakfast, Mother,” he added to Mikoto as he made his way to the door.

She snorted. “Go on, get to it.” But there was affection in her eyes, and she briefly patted his shoulder as he passed her.

Dawn had come and gone while they’d eaten, and the morning rays were warm through Itachi’s jōnin kit as he made his way towards Konoha proper. It was still strange - five years after the walls had been torn down - to walk through the now-blurry border between Konoha and the Uchiha compound, and see that there was no physical barrier to mark them. Though he’d held back from participating, Itachi had watched while Tsunade and as many of the Uchiha who’d wanted to had demolished every last inch of the walls that had annexed the clan away from the rest of the village. Even now, the memory was a warm knot in his chest.

Even with all it had cost them - both Konoha as a whole and each of its shinobi personally - Itachi knew it was worth it. Both the Uchiha and Konoha had been spared a far worse fate. Now, the Uchiha land was no more restrictive than any of the other clans who held specific property in and around Konoha.

Taking a deep breath, Itachi enjoyed the warmth of the sun for a moment more as he approached the commercial sector. While he  _ could _ have rushed over to the Konoha central library, it was relaxing to simply take it at a walk. There was some merit in how Mikoto always told him to slow down. The thought was interrupted as a familiar signature flickered against his senses, and after a moment’s sigh, Itachi looked towards it and body flickered up to the top of the building.

Lounging against the protruding parts of the roof, arms folded, Kakashi-senpai watched him resolve. Speak of the devil, Itachi supposed; just why would Kakashi be after his presence?

He waited for Kakashi to speak first, and instead gave him a thorough onceover. Kakashi’s stance betrayed very little, but what it did set off alarms in Itachi’s head. A faint dark smudge under his one visible eye, the way he leant slightly unevenly, favouring his left leg. There was a tension in his shoulders that wasn’t usual, and when he pushed off the brick he let out the faintest little sigh of exertion. Frowning, Itachi let him approach.

“How busy are you today?”

Not the question he’d been expecting. The faintest limp marred Kakashi’s otherwise even stride.  _ Wounded. _ His face spoke of a sleepless night - all too familiar, and something Itachi remembered vividly from his days as Kakashi’s shadow. Eyes narrowed, and Kakashi’s jaw clenched in return, a barely perceptible shift in how his mask sat across his face. The interrogation could wait, then. “Quite. I have an errand to run before meeting my team.” This time, Kakashi made no attempt to hide the grimace that crossed his face. Itachi glanced up at the sky, gauged the time, and sighed. “But it appears I’m going to be late regardless. What do you need?” Turning away slightly, Itachi pooled chakra into his hands and burned through a short series of handsigns. Seconds later, blackness coalesced from his palms and flowed together as Itachi fed the jutsu power. When a small crow had formed, he cut the flow and let it shake itself out.

It flew into the air when Itachi threw it, circled once, and then took off towards the training ground that he’d slated for his team’s use (for the next four months). With any shred of luck whatsoever, Neji would be  _ reasonable _ about his de facto position as second-in-command.

_ They’re doomed. _

Kakashi studied him silently, and Itachi suddenly realised that he was…  _ ashamed. _ It showed in the way he couldn’t quite bring himself to meet Itachi’s gaze, in the way he unfolded his arms and slid his hands into his pockets and curled them into hidden fists. In the faintest sparks of fizzing, upset chakra that slipped through his masking. In a moment, Itachi abandoned the sentiment that being so talented a ninja wasn’t worth it; without that, he’d not have been able to detect any of the damning chakra flutters Kakashi couldn’t fully control.

“One of my genin. I had a look myself, but I’ve only got the one and I’m not especially skilled with it.” _Sharingan,_ it had to be, though Itachi resisted the instinct to scoff. ‘Not especially skilled’ indeed; Kakashi was more skilled than most natural-born Sharingan wielders, even without its twin. “... I’d appreciate you or Mikoto-san taking a look at her.”

Itachi’s eyes narrowed slightly. “... Are you concerned about her safety? What about her necessitates this?”

On cue, Kakashi slouched - barely suppressed a wince, though Itachi saw the minute twitch that betrayed it - and sighed. “If you don’t want to, that’s fine.” So, he wasn’t going to get an explanation then. Rationality warred with personal loyalty, while Itachi considered it. On the grand scale of sins, what Kakashi was asking was fairly minor. It needn’t even be intrusive; Itachi could do it from afar, without frightening the girl. Even if a scan-by-Sharingan was truly suspicious, there was no real harm in it.

And Itachi could rarely bring himself to deny Kakashi’s requests, even when they were outlandish.

“Must it be this morning?”

Kakashi shrugged. “Preferably.”

Once more, Itachi sighed. He was going to be so late. Why was it that, whenever Kakashi-senpai got involved, he was  _ always _ late? “Alright. Let’s go; I’m in a hurry.”

* * *

Kakashi-sensei was late. Hinata was starting to suspect that this would prove to be a running theme for their sensei, but it didn't stop the knot of anxiety in her chest. The same as yesterday, Sakura was also late. It was starting to concern her - Sakura had seemed… okay, if a little strange, the day before, but she'd never been late to anything in the Academy. Maybe there was something wrong with her. It almost made sense, too, with the way she'd gotten sick and fainted in class, on their last day.

There could be something  _ really _ wrong with her. The added worry didn’t help the trembly feeling in Hinata's limbs, while she sat against the gate to the training ground and waited. Sasuke sat on the fence above her, slightly to the right, but he hadn't suggested sparring yet; Hinata was grateful. Curious, too, while he turned over a strange shuriken in his hands and smiled to himself, but grateful.

After yesterday, she had no will to fight him again. Even if he'd seemed weirdly… pleased with her feeble attempts. Still, she watched him out of the corner of her eye, interest catching when she saw chakra spark along the shuriken. He caught her spying, but instead of scolding her, Sasuke offered her a smile. "Cool, right?" he asked, holding it out to show her properly. "Itachi got them for me. It's  _ chakra _ metal." No small amount of pride in his voice at that, sending another crackle of chakra through it.

Something small and molten made itself known in Hinata's chest. Sasuke was lucky to have family who celebrated his success - she was happy for him, for getting to celebrate such a big occasion in a shinobi's life. It wasn’t his fault that Hinata had been scolded for nearly getting seriously wounded in a friendly little test; it wasn't Sasuke's fault that Hinata wasn't good enough.

_ Jealousy. _ It was jealousy, smouldering away under her ribcage.

Hinata did her best to shake it off. "That's really cool, Sasuke." The habitual honourific died on her tongue, but only barely. "... They look heavier than our normal ones."

Nodding, Sasuke flipped the shuriken between his fingers. "They are. Different balance, too. I'm going to have to learn how to throw them before actually applying my chakra." There was glee in his voice; despite herself, Hinata smiled. Sasuke had been far from the quietest member of their class - that honour went to Shino-san, if only barely. Shikamaru-san  _ was _ more talkative, even though it was by virtue of his complaints - but it was nice to get to talk to him more personally. He wasn't as gloomy as she'd expected of the Uchiha head family.

As she had been every minute for the last thirty, Hinata glanced up and studied the path leading to Training Ground Nine, searching for any hint of their teammate or sensei. "So the shuriken are fire attuned?" she asked vaguely. It wasn't really more than an attempt to contribute to conversation, to keep it going instead of letting it degrade on her account. She wasn't expecting the muffled little noise Sasuke gave in response. Turned her gaze to him questioningly. It wasn't so unusual an assumption, was it? Uchihas typically carried fire affinities, just as Hyuugas typically carried water.

Thank the gods that she did too. Father would have been beside himself if she'd failed him yet again.

"Hn… No." Hinata blinked at him, and Sasuke grimaced. "Lightning. I have a lightning affinity." For a moment, Hinata just stared at him. It was a standard part of the graduation exam, checking a student's chakra nature. It was important information for every shinobi and their prospective allies - not to mention their sensei - to know. Then guilt crashed down on her, and she dropped her gaze.

She shouldn't have assumed just because he was an Uchiha. Certainly, she knew there were Hyuugas who didn't carry their water affinity. Neji, for one. Whether the Uchihas considered it a mark of shame or not didn’t really matter; the assumption itself was the problem. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, hunching her shoulders in. It was so  _ early _ for her to make her teammate hate her.

Sasuke made a vague noise and hopped off the fence, finally stashing away his new shuriken in the pouch attached to the belt around his leg that held his kunai holster. “Come on. We might as well spar again; Sakura’s late, and we’ve got nothing else to do.”

It was shock more than anything that made her stare after him. A few moments later, he looked over his shoulder and frowned at her. Scrambling, Hinata bolted to her feet and darted after him, keeping her head down. Her hair obscured her face, but quick little peeks up through the strands kept her from tripping or hitting anything as she fell into Sasuke’s wake.

The grounds themselves looked as good as new, as they traipsed towards the sparring circle. The big rock was back in one piece, the jagged shards Sakura had created yesterday smoothed back out into semi-hard dirt. The river that meandered through all the eastern training grounds babbled quietly, undisturbed. Whoever was in charge of repairs whenever the grounds got wrecked was apparently very good. Hinata wasn't sure who even did a job like that; surely it had to be shinobi, with mastery of at least earth elemental ninjutsu. Maybe that was something  _ she _ could do, return the training grounds to their original shapes. Quiet work, no need to leave the village or throw her life away in combat.

_ Don't be ridiculous,  _ she scolded herself quietly.  _ That would require you to be  _ **_good_ ** _ at elemental releases. _ Her eyes went to her feet as she thought, a painful twist making itself known in her chest. She'd never be able to manage even that. She'd never manage anyth—

The only warning was the faint grind of a shoe on loose dirt, but Sasuke was already colliding with her as she looked up at the noise. He was scowling, black eyes narrowed, and there was almost no proper technique to the way he body checked her. Pain bloomed where his shoulder slammed into her chest - an aching reminder of the unfamiliar breasts she was still growing into - and then more where his arm went around her waist and they crashed into the ground. They skidded, Sasuke letting out a low grunt of effort, and then they rolled and hit a sudden stop. Hinata's stomach lurched, and she squeezed her eyes shut and let her head fall back. Pinning her down (awkwardly, his own limbs misplaced, only his actual bodyweight holding her in place), Sasuke hissed and swore.

"Pay attention to your surroundings," he huffed out, straightening up where he sat on her and rolling his shoulders. Hinata couldn't see it, but the motion was a familiar one, and it made his whole body sway slightly. "You could have  _ easily _ overturned me." A pause, and then he muttered to himself, "Worst executed tackle of my life."

Hinata couldn't help it. A little giggle slipped out, and even though she slapped a hand over her mouth and her eyes shot open, it did nothing to dissuade the smirk Sasuke shot at her in return. "Sorry," she squeaked anyway. "I'll—" do better? Was she  _ supposed  _ to fight him properly, even though he was clearly stronger than her and it was an inevitable defeat? Even though she risked offending his clan pride?

_ Yes. I am.  _ It was obvious in the hard light in his eyes, despite the way he snickered at her again. He'd told her as much yesterday, forcing her to fight back - he was telling her so right now, with how loosely he was keeping her down. Punishing her for drifting off into her own mental world. Again.

Alright. At least he wasn't making her struggle and guess what he wanted; even if she didn't understand why he was bothering. It couldn't be for his own benefit. She was hardly a good opponent.

Blinking away the reflex to activate her Byakugan -  _ I can't imagine how much pressure he must be under to awaken his Sharingan  _ \- she focused on how he was sitting on her, what points of contact they had and where they were the weakest. A moment later, the attack plan formed in her mind and she bucked and rolled, and threw him off. He must have been unprepared, because the quiet laughter morphed into a sound of alarm and then he hit the ground next to her, managing to salvage the landing into a decent roll; she was after him in a moment, tapping her fingers against his ribs and arms. There was no chakra application - she didn't want to actually disable him, and guilt from using Jūken on him yesterday lingered still in her sternum - but she tapped all the same. Guessing where his tenketsu were from how he moved, from how she'd seen his chakra flow the day before while casting a fireball jutsu at Kakashi-sensei. Letting him know that she  _ could,  _ maybe.

When he came right side up, she was already there to meet him, and as he swept her feet out she grabbed his wrist and took the sideways momentum and dragged Sasuke into it. He went over her shoulder, his own weight working against him, and Hinata went with it. Half-spun half-rolled it out and sprang to her feet.

From the ground, on his back, Sasuke let out sharp breath, blinked, looked up at her, and then burst into laughter. Hinata felt heat spread across her face as she realised she'd put him there; why was he laughing? She'd humiliated him - an  _ Uchiha  _ \- by besting him. Floored by a pathetic little excuse of a Hyuuga.

But he sat up, grinning, and held out a fist to her. "That's better, Hinata." Approving. As if she was doing something  _ right. _

Well… it was what he wanted. Wasn't it?

Tentatively, she booped the knuckles of her fist against his. A moment later his grin turned wicked, he grabbed her wrist, and yanked as hard as he could - Hinata stumbled, tripped, and went facedown in the dirt.

Still laughing, Sasuke sprang to his feet. "Never trust your opponent," he told her, holding out a hand to help her up. Hinata eyed it suspiciously, and slowly got to her feet without it. He nodded approvingly. "Let's go again. Also," thrown over his shoulder as he headed back to his half of the sparring circle, "thanks for not actually using Jūken on me."

Blushing darkly, Hinata tried to resist the urge to look away.  _ Pay attention,  _ he'd said. She lost, dropped her gaze, only for a moment, barely a second. Sasuke was on her in an instant - he was  _ so fast.  _ Faster than Hanabi by whole orders of magnitude, as fast as Neji on the rare occasion they sparred.  _ There's a reason he was top of the class in taijutsu,  _ Hinata thought. There was no time to actually formulate a counter - she let her instincts react for her, and one hand came up to catch the thrown punch, while the other hit flat against his chest and she spun on one foot. He went sailing past her, carried by his own attack, and it took no more effort than to turn it aside and let him keep going.

Something flashed in his eyes, and Hinata had only a moment to realise that he'd expected the deflection, before his hand turned in hers, curled fingers around her wrist, and the other hand caught hold of her arm, just above the elbow. She had no chance of retracting beyond his reach, with his motion carried through by the support of her splayed fingers on his chest.

His feet caught on the ground and anchored him, and suddenly his velocity was hers. Twisting, he rotated all the way around and then let go. Reflex kicked in as the world blurred and Hinata gathered her chakra in her eyes. Let out a gasp to focus it, and saw her surroundings burst into sharp clarity on all sides; her own path through the air became all too obvious to her, like watching from the inside and the outside at the same time.

Small expulsions of chakra helped her rotate midair, angling her feet towards the rock and facing Sasuke again. Active tenketsu lit up white-blue along every line of his body, like the glitter of a thousand stars. Underneath the smooth flow of chakra she could pick out the delicate curve of bone, just hinted outlines of his skeleton that slightly distorted his overall shape.

They gave away his intentions, as her feet touched stone toes-first, and his chakra gathered tighter in his trapezius and calf muscles. Bone lifted minutely and tenketsu flared along his shoulder line. As Sasuke shoved chakra through the soles of his feet and pushed off to jump after her, she let gravity talk hold and drag her to ground. Spinning with more little chakra expulsions along the length of her body, Hinata faced up as she dove under Sasuke's attack and struck him flat-handed in the chest, just above his solar plexus. Chakra convulsed through his chakra nexus, and she saw it as a bright flare of blueish light.

Only a frantic pull of her own chakra stopped Hinata from carrying through the Jūken strike; she was sucking in a sharp breath as she finally hit the ground, pushing herself up and frantically scanning Sasuke’s chakra network. Direct Jūken hits to the nexus always came with the risk of network death, and without immediate aid, it was usually fatal.

Sasuke was winded, as he dragged himself up, but he was smiling through the gasps of air. "Where… did  _ that… _ come from?" Nothing unusual about the circulation of his chakra. Breathing a sigh of relief, Hinata met his wince with one of her own, and shook her head.

"Sorry," she managed, as he caught sight of the strained chakra veins at her temples and the warping of the lenses in her eyes, revealing the faint outline of her pupils. Chakra thinned in his limbs, tenketsu sparked up his neck and the two under his jaw flared bright. With a blink, Hinata pushed away the warm hum of her own chakra, and let the Byakugan fade. "I couldn't help it when you threw me."

Sasuke pulled himself cross-legged and slumped, leaning his elbows on his knees, still trying to catch his breath. Shook his head. "Why are you… apologising?" She didn't know how to answer. Wasn't she  _ supposed  _ to? "You just… kicked my ass. That was great." Something that reminded Hinata of the feral gleam Hanabi got in her eyes when she trained showed through in his expression.

It registered, far too slowly, that she'd been given a compliment, and she felt her face flush with heat again. "I—" She had no idea what to say. Ducking her head, Hinata let her hair cover her face again. "Thank you."

A pale hand snuck into her line of vision (dull and one-dimensional after the flood of information she could see with the Byakugan), and tugged sharply on her hair. "'kura was right about this," Sasuke told her, little gruff, but recovering from being winded. "It's a liability." Something uneasy in his voice - Hinata wasn't quite sure, exactly, what emotion it was, but she did wonder if it was the same sudden sense of uneasiness that swelled under her skin.

Sakura had always been polite enough in the Academy, but she'd rarely strayed from her friends. Little enough interaction and plenty of observation had given the impression of a somewhat shy girl, clever and quick-witted, but not someone to step out of the status quo. When the Academy fashion had shifted from short hair to long hair, Sakura had grown hers out just like the rest of the girls (and several of the boys). Gentle even when she corrected her classmates, and steadily capable with their taijutsu and shurikenjutsu training, but not particularly noteworthy.

Her behaviour yesterday - bold, laying out a plan without hesitation and expecting not just obedience but critique, slashing off her hair as if how she looked was nothing more than a footnote to her identity as a kunoichi - was unsettling at best. Paired with the obscene display of strength in shattering the very ground, she was suddenly… intimidating, if Hinata was honest with herself. There was no telling what other surprises Sakura had up her sleeves. And whatever judgements of her character that Hinata had held meant nothing in the face of her disproving all of them.

She bit her lip, getting back to her feet and deciding to go through some katas. Given they still had a whole day of training with their new sensei to get through, and they’d neglected their warmup (again), there was a very real risk of cramping up if she didn’t ease down from the surprise spar.

After a moment, smiling to himself, Sasuke got to his feet too and followed suit.

For a while, they didn’t speak, but quietly watched each other work through their katas. Like she normally did, Hinata forsook the Academy standards and worked through the Hyuuga clan ones, supplementing each movement with the push and pull of her chakra, weaving through from stance to stance in long, fluid motions. Sasuke was observing her, while he worked through his own, curiosity in his eyes. It made sense, she supposed; the Hyuuga clan had been secretive about its every aspect for generations, and the specific katas designed to support their unique combat style was yet another secret.

_ Damn the secrets, _ she thought to herself, biting her lip again. A sentiment she could never share aloud - a sentiment that would earn her far worse than scalding retorts and days of repetitive practice - but there was nothing her father or the clan elders could do to stop her here, right now. Let Sasuke observe the Hyuuga katas. What harm could it really do?

And in return, she realised slowly, he made no attempt to conceal his form. As unfamiliar as they were, it still took her a few minutes to understand that he must be working through  _ Uchiha _ katas himself. Quicker movements, sharper and shorter. There was an aggression to the forms as he danced through them that was utterly foreign, a sense of urgency that remained even as Sasuke went slowly to ease his muscles and keep his body loose. A flame - tamed and quiet, a source of warmth on a cool night - but always one stray spark away from igniting against the entire forest.

“I see you got started without us,” came the call, an eerie echo of the morning before, and they both jolted out of form, spinning to face the approaching voice, tensing. It was gratifying, somehow, to see that Sasuke had also been so focused on their routines that he hadn’t noticed the rest of their team coming. Kakashi-sensei was in the lead, an abashed Sakura following in his wake. Her hair had been trimmed down and neatened up since yesterday’s fiasco, cut to a pleasing array of spiky locks held back by her hitai-ite, knotted like a headband. At some point in the last day, she’d gotten hold of some red fabric and swapped the standard navy of her hitai-ite.

Her clothes were different too. She’d abandoned her customary red dress, and instead she was wearing a short-sleeved red shirt that closed close to her throat, and a pair of snug, black gloves. Peeking out from her right glove were narrow white bandages that marked the injury she’d earned herself yesterday. The knee-length thermal tights were the same - if almost embarrassingly clingy without the dress skirt to cover them - as were her shoes, but she was carrying a narrow white belt around her hips that held no additional pouches yet, but was clearly notched in preparation to. As quiet as she was, her head tilted in deep thought, there was a confidence in her step that Hinata had never noticed before.

Maybe it had never been there.

Kakashi-sensei waved a hand at them as Sasuke and Hinata stepped from their katas into a quiet at-attention position, and then dipped quick little half-bows. “Good morning, Kakashi-sensei,” Hinata intoned, glancing sideways at Sasuke when he remained silent. He wasn’t looking at her; instead, his gaze was fixed on Sakura, and his eyes were hard.

“Hm. Well, don’t stop on my account. You’ve got a lot to do today.” It took a second of silence before it registered that he meant it, and - awkwardly - Hinata slid back into her katas. Moments later, eyes still locked on their errant teammate, Sasuke did the same. That it was apparently just  _ them _ who had a lot to do didn’t escape her notice. “Once you’re properly warmed up, you’re going to run sixty laps of the central area.” A gesture indicated the grassy field between forest and river, backed up against the border of ground nine. “Anyone who walks instead is getting a shuriken to the achilles.”

Maybe it was a joke. There was a faint crinkle to his visible face that made Hinata want to believe he was smiling, but there was an airy note of detachment in his voice that sent shudders down her spine. Either way, it wasn’t a risk she was willing to take.  _ Sixty laps. _ Already dreading it, Hinata started focusing on her breathing, pushing it out as deep and even as she comfortably could. It was going to be a long morning.

The snap of Kakashi-sensei’s fingers broke her thoughts as Sakura moved forward to join in with their katas. Everyone paused. “No, no, Sakura. You clearly don’t need to warm up, if you were happy to arrive so late.” Hinata got right back to her kata, the back of her neck prickling.

Despite how cowed she’d seemed only a moment ago, Sakura gave him back a beatific smile. “Sorry, Sensei,” she replied, settling into a resting stand. “You see, a horde of old ladies stopped me on my way and demanded I help them with their shopping…”

* * *

As far as excuses went, Mitskuni had heard better. Chōji had been the first to show up, and he’d offered a sheepish “Overslept,” at the judgemental stare Mitskuni had tried to level at him. Being hungover was not conducive to proper sensei-ing, he’d decided, but beyond the mission-grade painkillers he’d popped on his way here, Mitskuni just had to grin and bear it. It was, to be fair, his own fault.

Ino had been next, and while she’d had the decency to actually apologise, it had been accompanied by a flustered, “I could  _ not _ get my hair to cooperate this morning,” and while Mitskuni was tempted to offer her some solidarity, the net result was still that she was almost forty minutes late. Shikamaru had only shown up a minute ago, fully an hour and a half past the given time, and when asked he hadn’t even bothered with as weak an excuse as that.

“Eh. It was too early,” was all he’d defended himself with, one shoulder lifting barely a fraction of an inch. “Hey, Chō,” he’d added, giving his teammate a vague up-nod of greeting. Chōji mumbled something back through a mouthful of potato chips, and kept his gaze down.

For a full five minutes, Mitskuni let them stand around uncomfortably and just studied them, forcing his thoughts to get up from the sluggish crawl they wanted to move at.  _ I  _ **_really_ ** _ should have known better last night, _ he scolded himself. There was a vague memory of black eyes and the Uchiha clan emblem in the mess of last night; on top of all this, he owed Itachi an apology. Finally, he sighed.

While none of his genin looked less bored, it didn’t escape notice that they all focused on him. Exactly how nice did he need to be? How  _ mean _ did he need to be? Gods be damned. Tsunade was playing a cruel joke on him by making him a sensei. The last time he’d been given command of a mission, it had been with two well-trained, well-behaved chūnin, and he’d  _ still _ botched it.

“... I’m Okita Mitskuni,” he settled on, shifting his weight. He was  _ really _ starting to wish he was much taller than them than he was. Shikamaru would probably catch up by the end of the year, with how tall most of the Naras were. “You don’t need to introduce yourselves,” he interrupted Ino’s quick inhale. “You all know each other, and I’ve read your files.”  _ Oops. _ Maybe he shouldn’t have said that. Shikamaru raised an eyebrow, while Ino looked scandalised. Chōji munched down on another chip. Was it an anxiety reaction? Mitskuni knew the basics of the Akimichi clan jutsu, but not enough. He’d have to look into it; maybe a covert conversation with the Clan Head would be prudent. “I haven’t seen you in action, though. How about you give me a quick run-down of what you can each do? Shikamaru, you first.”

Mitskuni anticipated the most resistance from him. The returned grades throughout his Academy tenure had been horrible, barely scraping passing grades at the back of every single area. The reality was - as noted by his Academy sensei, Iruka, so many damn times that Mitskuni had lost count after one hundred and six - that Shikamaru was the brightest student in the whole class, more than capable of all basic shinobi skills and equally as capable in his clan-specific jutsu. Shikamaru’s skill and general aptitude wasn’t what made him a prospective nightmare. It was his attitude that gave Mitskuni a deep sense of dread.

The other two gave him an equal measure, for completely different reasons.

_ Gods, I’m so fucked. And not in the fun way. _

Sighing, as if Mitskuni had asked him to move one of Konoha’s walls by hand, Shikamaru tugged out a kunai and spun it lazily in hand. “Everything?” he asked. The whole question conveyed in one word; suddenly, right next to the mounting anxiety and the lingering migraine, Mitskuni felt a burning desire to throttle him.

It took a couple seconds too long to discard the thought of saying yes, just to spite him. “I’m assured of your ability in all Academy standard skills. Show me the rest.” That earned him another sigh, and Shikamaru glanced between his teammates.

“... Ino, you mind?” Despite himself, Mitskuni tilted his head. Odd, that he would choose Ino when his file said that Chōji was his closest friend. Or perhaps that  _ was _ why.

Tossing her ponytail over her shoulder, Ino gave him a long-suffering look. “Fiiine. Don’t make me do anything stupid, alright?” Shikamaru gave her a little smirk, putting his hands together.

“No promises.”

Her shriek of protest was cut off as Shikamaru’s shadow shot across the ground and connected to hers; Mitskuni held in the faint flicker of surprise. Even with as simple a set of seals - or perhaps  _ especially _ with as simple a set of seals as the technique apparently required - it was impressive to pull it off without an activation phrase. And the kid was only a genin.  _ Fuck. _

For a few seconds, they stood still. Then, smirking, Shikamaru reached up, took hold of his ponytail, and pulled the tie out. Next to him, eyes widening, Ino mirrored his movement exactly. “Shikamaru, you asshole!” she yelped, but she couldn’t resist the control. Hands went into their hair and messed it up as much as possible with only a few moments of vigorous ruffling. With her hair both longer and finer, Ino suffered much worse tangling. “I’m gonna get you for this, Shika,” she warned him - but there was a gleam of laughter in her eyes, even as the jutsu was released and she got to fussing her hair back into something resembling a neat ponytail.

Chōji, when asked, demonstrated his inherited technique with no small amount of encouragement required from both teammates; the words were muttered to himself, and there was no finesse to the way his whole body expanded to twice his original bulk, but Mitskuni just nodded - “Great, Chōji.” - and let it be. The point wasn’t, as he understood it, meant to be finesse. Weight and brute strength went a long way when you had a lot of it to throw around.

The wicked grin that Ino gave when it was her turn was quietly filed away into Mitskuni’s memory as a  _ do not fuck with. _ She spoke her activation phrase loud and clear when she lined up the unique Yamanaka seal against Shikamaru’s head, and he just sighed without any attempt to evade. “Someone gonna catch—?”

Ino crumpled as her jutsu went off, body deadweight. Without thinking, Mitskuni shot forward to catch her, chakra surging in a body flicker that made his whole head throb.  _ Why the hell didn’t I just do this introductory shit yesterday? _ Yesterday-Mitskuni was a fucking idiot. Also an asshole, for leaving this problem for today-Mitskuni.

Completely limp, Mitskuni tentatively lowered Ino to the ground and turned his head to observe Shikamaru. He was standing up straighter, though that was the only real change outside of his expression. He blinked a few times. “Jeez, Shikamaru. Did you just forget to  _ eat _ this morning or are you perpetually this hungry?”

Shikamaru’s voice, already low for such a young kid, but with Ino’s inflection and an accompanying flick of one hand. This was going to be… challenging, to train. So much power, more so than he suspected Ino really understood yet - and yet she was made so vulnerable in her own right that her faith in her team would have to be complete. And they’d have to really be able to protect her.

“Oh, and before I forget.” A pen came out of one of Shikamaru’s pockets, and quite promptly Ino made his hands draw a blind squiggle on his own face. “Alright!”

She made a seal with Shikamaru’s hands, and then he stumbled as the jutsu broke. On the ground, Ino stirred, sat up, and shook herself back into her own body. Grimacing, Shikamaru rubbed lamely at his face. Sighed harshly. “Thanks, Ino.” She stuck her tongue out at him.

“What about you, Sensei?” came the quiet inquiry, and all eyes went to Chōji. He shrank slightly under the scrutiny, and hurriedly munched on a chip.

Mitskuni tilted his head, despite being pretty sure what he meant; they’d probably never heard of him. He didn’t have the prestige of a lot of the other jōnin, and he’d not held the rank long enough to become well-known in the village at large. Not to mention that if  _ any _ of these kids had bothered to do any reading up on him in the public records, it was Shikamaru - and that seemed a lot of effort for what little was  _ in _ the public records. There was no way.

So he was almost certain it was an invitation to show them what he could do, but damned if he was going to make that conclusion for them. If they wanted it, let them ask.

“Oh yeah! Come on Sensei, show us something cool! There’s got to be a reason you’re a jōnin.” Regret tasted an awful lot like tequila, for some reason. Mitskuni sighed.  _ I was right. I’m going to die. _

Running through his mental arsenal, Mitskuni picked out the lowest effort jutsu he had that still showcased the specialty. “Fine.” Four seals later - he didn’t bother slowing down to let the kids read them - he muttered the activation under his breath and aimed. From his right index finger, the chakra snapped out in the thinnest line of rainbow light, so fast that it seemed to happen in the same instant. A moment later, there was a brief shimmer in the air, like a distorted afterimage, and as it faded he indicated the branch above their head. A neat, round hole gave off a weak wisp of smoke, scorched black around the outside, bored shallowly into the wood.

Ino and Chōji blinked, gazing at the hole. “Was that… What  _ was  _ that?” Ino asked, impressed but confused. Chōji merely tilted his head up to try and study it closer.

Instead of watching Mitskuni’s quick jutsu, Shikamaru was staring at his left hand, eyes narrow. “A laser,” Mitskuni offered, meeting Shikamaru’s gaze when it rose.  _ Ask me, _ he silently dared the genin. “It’s a special technique that was passed down in my family. Much like all of yours.”

Ah, fuck. Maybe  _ that  _ was why Tsunade had given them to him.

Shikamaru stayed silent, but his gaze went back to the gap in Mitskuni’s left hand where his middle finger should have been. He couldn’t help the urge to flex the remaining fingers, but then the hand went back in one of his pockets and Shikamaru couldn’t do anything more than frown at him.

At least the little bugger had the sense not to bring it up  _ now. _ They barely knew each other.

“Any of you got anything else special to show off?” he asked them, hoping against hope that  _ someone _ had something to say. Mitskuni still wasn’t even sure what to do next; the pile of books on teaching he’d borrowed from the Konoha library had proven next to useless, and he wasn’t any closer to formulating a coherent plan to train their abilities than he had been yesterday.  _ How the fuck did Sensei do it? _ He’d never smacktalk Ryō-sensei ever again.

After a general round of denials, he sighed and rubbed his face. Barely restrained the urge to tug on the ring through his lower lip with his teeth. Fuck it. He’d just have to wing it.

“Alright. To help me get a better sense of you as shinobi… I’m going to test your resourcefulness.” Struck by inspiration, Mitskuni pulled out a small notepad and a pen of his own. He really fucking loved the jōnin flak jacket. Not that it was  _ significantly _ different from the version offered to chūnin, but… It was the principle of the matter, damn it. “I’m going to give you a list of items.” As obscure and weirdly specific as he could think of. “You have the day to collect them all, and bring them back.”

Mitskuni paused in his writing, glancing up at them to gauge their response. Shikamaru: bored. Not exactly unexpected. Chōji looked as nervous as he had before, and Mitskuni gave his lip piercing a little nibble despite himself. That self-confidence was going to need a serious boost if the kid wanted to be successful as a ninja. Ino was… surprisingly intrigued, if her expression could be trusted. Maybe it was a task just oddball enough to pique her interest.

From Iruka’s reports on her, the girl had a talent for mischief and a wicked streak a mile wide. If Mitskuni was very, very lucky, then maybe the key to training her would be as simple as keeping her  _ interested. _ She couldn’t put that mind to work against him if she was too busy trying to figure out what the fuck he was even doing.

Shame that logic went for him, too.

“I’ll let you work together today. As a treat.” He ripped the page out of his notebook and handed it over. Fourteen completely out of the way items should be enough to occupy them for some time. “If you’re not done by four this afternoon, come back with what you’ve got.” And with luck, he’d have a few hours to himself to sulk in the shade and feel sorry for himself.  _ I’m never drinking again. _ “Well? Go on. You’re wasting daylight.”

With perplexed glances, they hurried off. Well — Ino snatched the list and hurried off, urging Chōji along by prodding his back and shoulders, and shouting at Shikamaru to keep up and not sneak off to nap. The possibility was cold in Mitskuni’s gut.  _ I’ll have to figure out a  _ **_punishment_ ** _ if he doesn’t participate. _

Oh yeah. Tsunade was definitely trying to kill him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta-read by [ClockworkSirius](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClockworkSirius) \- she's the best.
> 
> More Things of Import  
> || I actually quit reading/watching Naruto somewhere in the last fight with Obito and Juubi and whatnot, because the internal logic of the universe went to hell and there were like aliens and shit and I couldn't be bothered. So I know very little about the canonical ending and even less about Boruto; any similarities are purely coincedence (or me hijacking names and concepts to further my own agenda). LMAO  
> || A little note, but Anbu squads are five-man; one captain and four shadows (of equal ranking). Yes, I called them shadows. It's the Narutoverse. Konoha would absolutely do that shit.  
> || This chapter took ages! I apologise for that. The reasons are twofold - one, because I had to completely scrap the first attempt and start again, and two, I've been writing up a goddamn **Ninja Handbook** to keep track of everyone (CC and OC alike) and their abilities and stats. Yeeaaaah. Don't @ me. (Also I can't show you any of it, because spoilers).  
> || How much do you guys want to explore the other teams and the more general population of Konoha? There are obviously more than like six genin and two jōnin running the damn village. Team Seven is the core, of course, but they aren't the isolated important characters.  
> || I'm probably going to be a little vague when it comes to some specifics of Japanese culture or cuisine. I'm a Kiwi, and I've never been to Japan - I'd rather be vague than cock it up, sorry.  
> || Also, finally, don't worry about Asuma. I haven't forgotten him.
> 
> Next Chapter due: **4th April, 2020**
> 
> ~~Comments are love.~~


	5. If You Can't Find Your Own Introspection, Storebought is Fine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even if there's too much to do, training ever continues.

She’d made it forty-eight laps before she’d had to stop and puke.

Sasuke laughed at her as he finally lapped her, while Hinata danced to an anxious stop - still jogging in place - and asked her if she was okay. Whatever reply Sakura had wanted to give was consumed by the ragged panting and the searing ache in her lungs, and then Hinata yelped and took off again. Lounging on that gods-thrice-damned rock, Kakashi lowered his hand from where he’d sent a shuriken at them. It buried itself in the ground where Hinata’s feet had been a moment before.

Groaning, trying to swallow the taste of acid out of her mouth, Sakura dragged her body back into gear and started running again. She was _slow._ Cramp had clenched its fingers around every leg muscle she had, and then crept up her back too, and no amount of missed warmups could account for the way her side pulsed with pain, as if she’d been stabbed, or how her breath was so sharp in the back of her throat it tasted like blood. More than just slow, as Sasuke kept the brisk pace he’d had all morning and threatened to lap her again, she was _weak._

 _I’m gonna kill Ino,_ Sakura thought through gritted teeth, and forced her body to pick up the pace. It was unfair to blame her friend, of course - just as it had been unfair to blame her the first time around, just like Sakura had needed her whole world to implode before she fucking figured out what really mattered. It had been _so long_ since she’d cared about how she looked, since it had meant a damn thing whether anyone liked what they saw when they saw her.

Sakura was a goddamn shinobi. When people looked at her, they should see _strength._

But it didn’t make running her sixty laps any easier, when for the past twelve years she’d been too young and naive to understand that. Thinking of the little girl who owned this body she had now - the version of Sakura that was a distorted, twisted reflection of the person she thought of herself as, whose life had been thrown out of whack by flickers of a future self she couldn’t ever know - was uncomfortable at best, and even more so every time she failed to think of themselves as the same. It was… wrong, to feel guilty for landing in her own body, even if she was six years too young, but it was _worse_ when she considered the gentle mind she had swarmed with memories and intent and knowledge not to be her own.

It felt like she’d… murdered herself, somehow. The innocent Sakura who wanted to be a ninja without knowing why, who’d worried about her hair and her face and whether she would be pretty if she let herself build up the muscles that Ino flashed so proudly. Powerful arms and a hard stomach weren’t ladylike; they weren’t _elegant._ And - bless their souls - her parents had found her worries and obsessions normal, reassured her as they would have any civilian child. Had tried their best to encourage her and boost her self-confidence.

Never knowing the damage they were doing to Sakura’s chances of survival, because in the end she _wasn’t_ a civilian child. She was a genin - she was a _kunoichi_ \- and how she looked didn’t matter. Staying alive was what mattered. Winning real battles. Protecting her teammates, pulling her own weight, saving the people she loved.

Saving the world.

The task was too daunting to think about, now. There was just… so much. So many things that were still waiting to go wrong, the Akatsuki and Pein and the Jinchūriki and… And, and, and. The list was endless. She’d drown in it if she let herself.

And right now… there wasn’t anything she _could_ do. Just as she had the first time, and no matter Sasuke’s mocking of her civilian thoughts or the way she’d tried more because of it, Sakura hadn’t behaved like a shinobi. She hadn’t trained hard enough, or long enough, and she just wasn’t capable. She couldn’t even run sixty laps of a small training ground without pushing her body so hard she vomited.

It took a lot of willpower not to think about the processes happening beneath her skin right now. The lactic acid in her muscles was ridiculous, all from running some simple laps. If she was the sweet tween girl whose mind she’d stolen for her own, then she’d have thought she was dying. As it stood, even though Sakura knew better and refused to stop running, she still couldn’t think about the potential damage without her ragged breath catching or her heartbeat skipping.

Utterly absurd, because in reality there was no undue harm that would come to her from pushing so hard, but something flickering in her mind reacted primally to the pain overtaking her body and kept the fear alive all the same. Fucking ridiculous.

“Come on, Sakura!” Sasuke huffed out as he passed her again - _motherfucker_ \- and turned his head just enough to flash a wicked grin at her. He flicked out a quick two-fingered salute and took off faster, and Sakura let out a grumble even as she braced and picked up the pace. She was better than this, damn it, she was a fucking _elite—_

Twelve years old. Fresh genin. Had never trained a hard day in her life, had done all the Academy mandated stuff and run around a bit with Sasuke, but she’d never taken up the opportunities to train with him and Itachi.

_Itachi spends time training him, teaching him; got him a gift for graduating._

The thought made her stomach clench and twist (or maybe it was just the running), and once again she had to stumble to a stop, abdomen convulsing, and lean over to throw up. Even knowing that, after it all, Itachi had been fundamentally loyal to Konoha, it was too strange to hear Sasuke talk about him, to remember the soft affection in his face whenever he’d picked Sasuke up from school.

Moving back into a run pulled another deep groan from her throat, but she did so anyway. Kakashi hadn’t been kidding about the shuriken - and Hinata passed her again too, head down, flashing an apologetic glance. Just like Sasuke, she was barely out of breath. If Sakura had to hazard a comparison, she’d have said Hinata was even less so.

Trying to blot out the endless complaints of her body, she thought about the prior afternoon; ignoring the tutting of the med-nins - Kakashi hovering like an angry wraith in the background - and then dismissing the concerned coddling of her parents when she’d finally made it home. For a long while, she’d not been able to think about anything except Kakashi’s response. She still didn’t know what to do with it.

 _“Where’s Uzumaki Naruto?”_ she’d asked, and Kakashi had doggedly kept his gaze fixed ahead.

 _“I don’t know,”_ he’d replied, and when that hadn’t been good enough, he’d given her a stern glare. _“Nobody knows. Don’t ask me again.”_

When given a direct order, even as wrong and cold as Kakashi was, she didn’t disobey. He deserved better than that from her. But it had buzzed in her head for hours, worried away at all rationality. _Nobody knows._ Where the hell could he be? What could have happened, what could have been so fucking awful about averting the wholesale slaughter of the entire fucking Uchiha clan that Naruto was just _gone?_ Even when she’d gotten her wits back and spent another night quietly wracking the new memories (the vestiges of the girl she’d all but killed to replace), there had been nothing she could find to explain it. The Uchihas were alive - and they wouldn’t have killed Naruto, or driven him away - and Tsunade was Hokage, but from everything she could piece together that had only improved Konoha’s treatment of its orphans.

Her family had attended the Third’s funeral, she remembered. A quiet and scarce affair; the old man had been laid on his funeral pyre and set alight, and slowly the small gathering of civilians had scattered back to their lives under the afternoon sun and left only the ring of… Anbu? They’d seemed like Anbu, in her fuzzy childhood eyes. Tight black and hidden faces. Definitely shinobi.

But now, when she scrutinised the memory as closely as she could, they no longer seemed like Anbu. They hadn’t seemed normal, either; something about them marked them as _wrong,_ even to Sakura’s more experienced eyes. Something had been so wrong.

No matter how hard she’d searched through her own head, Sakura hadn’t been able to fit together a good reason as to _why_ Hiruzen had died in the first place. Some part of her wanted to blame Orochimaru, wanted to throw all her bitterness and confusion at the monster who had first taken Sasuke away from her - from _them_ \- all those years ago; but she knew that it was misplaced. Even if she wasn’t sure exactly what the back-stabbing traitorous Sannin was up to right now, at this moment, or what he’d been up to five years ago, the timing was too suspicious for anything else. For the week that had passed between what she now understood to be called the Konoha Massacre and the Sandaime’s funeral, they’d been too close together to be unrelated.

Even running still, even with her body screaming at her and her focus frayed at best, thinking of the _Konoha Massacre_ sent shivers through her. She didn’t know nearly enough about what it had entailed, about why it was called that, about what had gone so wrong in saving the Uchihas that the whole village apparently suffered for it. What had happened that had led to Hiruzen’s death? What had caused Kakashi to change as he had, subtle and drastic all at the same time? Were they even related? Was it something _after_ that had fucked everything else up?

Too many questions, and not nearly enough time to try and answer them. Sakura hadn’t even been… awake? Was that the right word for what she was now, for the awareness and recollection and experience that marked her as who she was - a kunoichi of the highest order, Tsunade’s personal apprentice, a med-nin who had ultimately failed to save anyone that mattered when it had mattered most— Was she _awake_ now, in a child’s fragile body, frantically drowning in all the things that hadn’t happened yet?

That… might never happen now. The thought should have been a cheerful one.

And _awake_ or not, it had only been two days. She hadn’t had the chance to stop reeling. Logically, in the quiet disconnected part of her mind, the cold med-nin calm that felt no emotion and offered only judgement, Sakura knew she hadn’t had the time to _grieve._ Whether it had happened or not, whether it even counted as real anymore, she’d witnessed the end of a war. She’d watched as the Allied Shinobi Forces had bled out and died, as even their enemies had turned to their side to try and stop the monster that was Juubi from consuming their whole world. She’d watched Naruto struggle for breath as his fellow Jinchūriki had perished around him. She’d watched Sasuke scream feral rage as every motivation he’d ever had crumbled inside him. She’d watched Kakashi find relief in death even as he gave everything just to extend their lives a little longer.

She’d watched the world burn.

Her own expectations were… excessive. She _shouldn’t_ be okay after that. Being twelve again, seeing Sasuke alive and well - even **happy** \- seeing Kakashi flick shuriken at them as they faltered, reading an old issue of _Icha Icha,_ those things didn’t make the rest disappear. She was being cruel to herself, and it would only make it worse when she stopped. Objectively, she needed to just stop for a moment and let it hurt.

But she couldn’t. Kakashi wouldn’t understand; and he wouldn’t let her, regardless. Nobody _knew._ How could she tell anyone?

Itachi’s face flashed in her mind. Finally, every muscle aflame, she came to a stop. She couldn’t help it. Bending over, gasping for air, Sakura squeezed her eyes shut and willed the throbbing inside her skull to chase away her thoughts. She needed to talk to the elder Uchiha, find out what the fuck was going on, but she didn’t know what had happened to him, didn’t know what cards he held or where she needed to step carefully. She needed to try and reconcile this new reality with the horrors he’d committed (he hadn’t committed them) or the gut-wrenching tragedy of his motivations (they didn’t exist).

There was a brief tug at her ankle, and then a razor thin line of pain. Her eyes flashing open, Sakura reacted before she could think better of it, leaping sideways with a burst of chakra through her feet, ignoring the screaming complaints of her body. There were shuriken in her hands even as she moved, and she spun and landed, hurling them towards the perceived threat.

Eyes wide, panting harshly, she remained coiled and sent chakra rushing down her arms, gathering in her hands, ready for action. Across the grounds, Hinata stumbled mid-stride, and nearby Sasuke skidded to a halt. On the rock, his book still in hand but closed, Kakashi stared at her from where he was balanced in a precarious one-armed handstand. Three of the five shuriken she’d hurled at him were buried in the stone itself from the force of her throw; the other two were just pinging away and settling in the grass. One must have missed completely. The last had been deliberately deflected with the hand holding his book, knocked aside by the protective metal plating on the backs of his gloves.

A new ache made itself known in her arms, the whiplash of throwing, along with the tingling ache of chakra surges that she wasn’t yet reaccustomed to. Ever so slowly, Kakashi lowered himself back to his feet with perfect control, stepping down the rock to the ground, and then flipping open his book again.

Envy curled hot and furious in Sakura’s gut, and she felt her hands clench despite herself. Not a week ago, she’d had that same exacting control of herself. _Maybe it was never ago. It hasn’t happened._ All the same, logic reasserted itself, and she broke eye contact to look down at her ankle. The back of her sandal had been slashed, and there was the absolute slightest scratch through her skin where the tip of Kakashi’s shuriken had touched.

_Anyone who walks gets a shuriken to the achilles._

Not an attack. She’d stopped running; it had been _motivation._

All at once, heat filled her face and she knew she was turning brilliant red; it didn’t stop the choking feeling that rose up after it, as she struggled to take an even breath and force it back down. “... Sorry, Kakashi-sensei,” she managed. It wasn’t good enough - of course it wasn’t good enough. If Kakashi had been any less skilled of a shinobi, she probably would have hit him with her frantic, blind counterattack. There’d been no reason for it.

Sakura’s heart thundered in her chest like it wanted to break free of her ribcage, every breath a desperate draw against spasming muscles and a raw, dry throat. She could still taste bile. It didn’t seem to matter that she knew she wasn’t under attack, that she was… _safe,_ here in Konoha, here with her team and her sensei. Her mind struggled to believe it, and her reflexes refused to try.

The worst part was that she knew exactly what was happening. She’d been in a war. She’d trained and fought and killed and even though her body could no longer keep up, she couldn’t let it go. Everything that could be an attack _was,_ until proven otherwise. Despite telling herself it wasn’t true, the belief remained that if she failed to react, she would die.

Kakashi was still staring at her over his book, even as Hinata slowly began running again and Sasuke frowned at them. His gaze was cold - but moreover, there was something in his face that spoke of calculation. Weighing her responses. Recognition.

And of course. He’d been born into the Third Shinobi War. He’d been raised in violence. He _knew_ what wartime trauma reflexes looked like.

Just to break their staring, Sakura turned and started to run. She didn’t even know how many laps she’d managed anymore - her thoughts had strayed too far and too long, and she had to have done more than one or two since first stopping to vomit and losing count, but she could no better guess how many than she could what Kakashi was thinking. There was nothing she could do. Sakura just had to keep going. She had to _adjust_ before she could even begin to fix things. To save people.

 _I have the time,_ she reminded herself. Even the first time, aside from the Massacre, nothing had really gone sideways until the Chūnin Exams and Orochimaru’s Curse Mark. _Damned if I let that happen again._ But she had time. Even after that, even after Sasuke had left - _he won’t this time, he has no reason to_ \- it had taken years for everything to really hit the fan. She had time.

But clearly, she needed to try another approach. Too soon, too little time to consider and adjust, but she was a shinobi. Adapting was _expected_ of her. So far, all she’d managed to do was make Kakashi suspicious of her; so suspicious that he’d used his Sharingan to test her. So suspicious that she was almost certain he’d been observing her on her way here this morning. Not just observing his team as she’d known he would - but _her_ personally. She didn’t match her file.

And she was making it worse, trying to behave like the trained veteran she felt like she was. She couldn’t throw around Tsunade’s strength technique like she was used to - she absolutely couldn’t reveal she knew medical ninjutsu. Learning such complicated techniques took years of training and far more skill than she should have as a fresh genin. Frankly, she suspected it took more skill than she actually _had._ Her chakra reserves were still small. Her control wasn’t as refined as she was used to, despite being leagues ahead of her peers. She needed to put more effort into faking incompetence, rather than behaving like a battle-hardened kunoichi.

_Okay._

If she needed to not be herself, then… she’d be incompetent. Flukes and nerves and overconfidence; she would pin her behaviour for the last couple of days on anything and everything she could to explain it away. Nerves from graduating. Overindulgent self-confidence that had thoroughly shattered with their disastrous attempt at the bell test. Overreactions. Childish eagerness broken into undisciplined caution.

The idea of letting herself be the same worthless genin she’d been at the start curdled in her chest, but it wasn’t forever. She didn’t need to learn how to be valuable this time - she just needed to slow down and pace out the suspicion until she could look natural in her progression. She just needed to settle. Adapt. She didn’t need to let her friends get hurt.

“Alright, pack it in,” Kakashi’s voice broke into her thoughts, and she stumbled. Caught herself, barely, and then thought better of it. Let herself collapse. _Ow._ Should she have landed on her hands rather than her arms? She wasn’t sure, as she hauled herself back to her feet and dramatically staggered back towards her sensei. Trying to think of when she’d learned not to catch her whole weight with her hands - and subsequently risk breaking her wrists - was nothing more than a fuzzy certainty in her head.

Maybe that little a thing didn’t matter.

When they’d made it back to Kakashi-sensei, she made a show of flopping to the ground and groaning. It was easier than she’d like to admit. Sasuke didn’t sit, hair slicked back with sweat but breathing deep and even, and instead started working into gentle stretches, trying to avoid the cramps already wracking Sakura’s whole body. On her other side, Hinata did the same; she was gleaming with sweat too, and had taken off her fluffy hooded jacket to reveal the loose short-sleeve she wore underneath it, but she was even less out of breath than Sasuke was. Her stretches were measured and controlled.

“Well, that was enlightening,” Kakashi began, snapping the _Icha Icha_ book shut and stashing it back in whichever pocket it went into. Not an old issue, Sakura realised belatedly. The current one. Jiraiya hadn’t _written_ the sequels yet. “You’ll be doing individual training for the rest of the day. Hinata,” and she squeaked, stopping her stretches. “Your stamina is, frankly, excellent.” The Hyuuga turned vivid pink, eyes widening, but she didn’t dare refute the observation. _Good._ Maybe Kakashi would be good for her, even as detached and contemptuous as he seemed to be. “But you lack conviction.” He walked right up to her, and as fast as she’d flushed, she went pale instead.

It wasn’t fast. He telegraphed the motion so clearly that all three genin knew what would happen before it did - and still, Hinata stood still with pale cheeks and wide eyes and did nothing to stop him. Kakashi reached out with one hand, put his palm against her shoulder, and then shoved her over with casual ease. Sakura felt the flicker of his chakra signature, just faintly, and there was scorn in his face as Hinata toppled with more force than her own meagre weight could have offered on its own. A whimper as she did, staggering and slamming into the ground. Her eyes squeezed shut, and the **thud** of impact made Sakura flinch away where she lay.

Or maybe Kakashi would just bully her like everyone else.

For a moment, incandescent rage flashboiled in her chest, and Sakura pushed herself up on shaking arms. Kakashi was already crouching by Hinata, elbows on his knees and hands loose between them. “Your skill is worthless if you won’t use it.” And silently, an echo of his voice in her head despite the fact he didn’t say it: _and so are you._ Straightening up, he turned his gaze on Sakura - and the anger stuttered into something altogether heavier and harder to hold. “... Do push-ups. Keep doing them until you can’t.” Voice cold, but Sakura met his gaze steadily and held her tongue. He was right. Sakura couldn’t hope to match another shinobi in battle if she couldn’t even run around for a bit without puking. “And then do sit-ups instead.”

She expected him to move on to Sasuke immediately, but he stared at her instead. Licking her lips, trying to work up some saliva to ease the scratchy dryness in her mouth, Sakura dragged her hands into position, set her weight on her toes, and started doing push-ups. They were slow, but she kept at it. A small metal canteen dropped onto the ground in front of her, and by the time she looked up Kakashi had left her to it. He didn’t react when she stopped to take a drink; despite how badly she wanted to gulp it all down, she stopped herself after two mouthfuls, and went back at it. Trying to show incompetency didn’t have to mean doing stupid shit that would only make her throw up more. That wasn’t necessary. Was it? _Nope._ She didn’t want to do it either way.

“... You’re arrogant, Sasuke.” Black eyes blinked back, but a glance wasn’t enough for Sakura to properly read his reaction. Her arms shook as she lowered her body towards the ground. Nearly gave out. Tensed abdominals and taut shoulders, and she managed to push herself back up. Locked her elbows for a moment. Slowly went down again. “You’re going to sit on this rock. You’re going to do nothing.”

Sasuke sputtered a protest, and Sakura didn’t blame him. What in the hell was Kakashi doing this time? His teaching methods had always been unconventional, and normally she’d trust he knew what he was doing… but this wasn’t her Kakashi. This wasn’t the same man. “Kakashi-sensei, that’s—”

“Quiet.” Spoken with as harsh a tone as he could, and chills raced across Sakura’s skin. It had been so long… she’d forgotten how scary Kakashi could be when he tried. “If you ever backtalk me again, I’ll throw your ass back to the Academy myself.” There wasn’t even anger when he made the threat. Perfectly even and ice cold. “Sit on the rock, and shut up.”

Trembling, Sasuke climbed up the rock and sat down, plucking Sakura’s shuriken from it as he went. Silent. He sat, set the little metal stars down beside him, and went still. Bitter and useless fury shone feverishly in his eyes, even as he refused to meet anyone’s gaze.

Sakura held herself just barely off the ground, and slowly, achingly, pushed herself back up.

Once more, Kakashi was by Hinata. “Get up.” She did so, scrambling, wincing from the bruise of landing, already beginning to show on her exposed forearm. Kakashi formed a handsign, and a moment later there was a puff of congealing chakra and an exact copy of him popped into existence. Something that ached far deeper made itself known in Sakura’s chest. “This is a shadow clone. You can’t hurt me by destroying it, no matter what you hit it with. That’s your job today.” Kakashi gestured to his clone, who took half a step back, sized Hinata up, and smirked through the mask. “Hit me.”

The real Kakashi wandered back over to the rock, ignored Sasuke’s smouldering glare entirely, and settled down to read some more. Next to them, Hinata watched the clone in trepidation, but it didn’t move. Eventually, she took a step forward; the clone moved back, and then suddenly it was dancing back towards the river, avoiding the jabbed attempt at an attack. Hinata bit her lip and hunched her shoulders.

From behind his book, sounding bored, Kakashi drawled. “If you don’t hit me, Hinata, you’re joining Sasuke back at the Academy.” It got him a squeak. And then Hinata was off, chasing the clone back and forth across the training grounds, dipping in and out of the forest and Sakura’s line of sight.

The first time she finally collapsed, her whole body shaking with the effort, she let herself just lay there pathetically for a minute and she wasn’t scolded. Everything hurt, but Sakura eventually replaced her hands underneath her and lowered her chest almost to the ground. Tensed up and forced her arms to take her weight, fought gravity and crept her way back up until she could lock her elbows again, just for a moment. Sasuke was turning a large shuriken over in his hands - still silent - as if it was the only thing in the world left to care about. Sparks occasionally skated across its unusual edge, and without knowing how to properly mask it, the flutters in his chakra signature could be felt loud and clear.

Hinata was struggling, by the time Sakura collapsed a second time. Ragged breathing, sweat slicking her hair into matte ribbons, constantly sticking to her face and getting in the way. She impatiently brushed them aside, eyes fixed on Kakashi’s clone - chakra veins rose sharply in her temples, Byakugan hunting for any way past the clone’s defence. Kakashi was just too fast. There was no counterattack, but Hinata just couldn’t get close enough.

Letting herself pause, Sakura had another drink of water. Her injured hand was starting to become unbearable, forced to hold her weight up and down for so long. Technically, if she had to, Sakura knew she could keep going. Her limits were different now, much narrower than she liked, and trying to account for that accurately was proving to be almost impossible - but she could keep going. She couldn’t stop shaking, but she hadn’t hit the point of no return yet. Still, she was supposed to be a genin. Weak. Incompetent. Calling upon her memories of her first timeline, Sakura decided it was time to quit. She turned along her own length, glancing up at Sasuke - obviously in a foul mood, spinning the special shuriken on one fingertip, watching it crackle with chakra - and lay down on her back. Picked her knees up, took a breath, and laced her fingers together at the back of her neck.

Kakashi didn’t look up either, but a moment later he’d shifted slightly and placed one foot over the top of Sakura’s toes. An anchor point for her to do sit-ups properly.

Wondering whether the stinging in her eyes was gratitude or just exhaustion, Sakura braced herself and sat up. Let her muscles release and fall back again. Rinse, repeat. Over and over. She slowed down, paused to drink, kept going.

…

It was late afternoon when Kakashi finally stirred. Sakura had been lying still for about half an hour, eyes closed, just focused on trying to breathe properly. After she’d finally given up on sit-ups, Kakashi had had her stand and do lunges. Then starjumps. Then warmdown. Even with that, she felt like a living bruise. Tomorrow was going to _suck._

Hinata was lunging wildly, in between long breathers. Clone Kakashi sidestepped easily, watching her. With every attack, she let out a shout of effort, and it made exactly no difference at all. Sullen as ever, Sasuke was taking a nap. There was quite literally nothing else for him to do.

The _snap_ of Kakashi closing his book took all attention. “We’re done for the day. Meet back here tomorrow, at—”

_“Hyah!”_

Kakashi blinked. Off by the river, Hinata had struck a borderline feral attack at Kakashi’s clone - whose attention had been on his progenitor. The faintest _pop_ of a clone dispelling reached their ears. Panting, Hinata sat down heavily. “I… hit you… Sensei.”

Finally, the crinkle of his eye as he smiled was genuine. Relief washed through Sakura, and she closed her eyes. _Different but there._ It was a mantra she’d sung internally at every new instance of odd cruelty, but seeing proof of it made it infinitely easier to believe. “Yes, you did. Well done, Hinata.” Faint pink dusted Hinata’s face. “... Tomorrow morning at six. You should all get home.” And with a burst of chakra, he was gone.

Sasuke didn’t move from where he was curled up on the rock. His eyes were open, now, gleaming darkly, but he didn’t say a damn thing.

Finally, Hinata got back to her feet. “I’ll… see you tomorrow,” she mumbled, before grabbing her jacket and heading out. It took another five minutes for either Sakura or Sasuke to move. When they did, it was Sakura who sat up.

“... Are you okay?” Sasuke’s gaze fixed on her, dark and angry, but he finally pushed himself up into a sitting position. Said nothing. “... He’s trying to teach you something. Right? You just… have to figure out what it is.” And she believed it, she really did - but even trying to think through the hovering exhaustion, Sakura couldn’t come up with a good answer. Kakashi-sensei never did anything for no reason, but… what was he hoping to teach Sasuke by sidelining him?

Expression dark, Sasuke got to his feet, dropped to the ground beside her, and stomped away without a word. Sighing, Sakura forced herself to follow suit; gathered up her shuriken, put them away, and began the long trip home. She was sore everywhere, and she’d only be more so tomorrow. Raw strength and endurance were what she needed right now, just to catch up with where her teammates were, just to even survive more intense or specific training, but it was going to be rough and she knew it.

Her father fussed, when she got home. It was almost dark by then, and quite aside from the fretting she’d expected, there was a frantic edge as he took in the ragged state of her, the bruises slowly forming on her arms where she’d collapsed, the faint whiff of bile on her breath as he got too close and Sakura didn’t have the heart to push him away. “I’m _fine,”_ she insisted, over and over and over again, but her mother just watched with worried eyes while her father brushed her hair back and promised she could talk to them if it got too hard, or if her sensei was mean.

That sat funny in her chest, that one. _Mean._ Yeah, Kakashi-sensei was mean. Cruel, even - nastier than he’d ever been before, just as blunt. But that was what they needed, or at least the lessons he was teaching them were necessary. The real world was mean. Enemies would want them _dead._

Finally, as her father brushed her hair back again and offered to run her a bubble bath, what little patience she had left snapped. “Stop it,” she growled, pushing him away; he stumbled, and she ignored the flash of guilt as her chakra surged. “I’m not your baby girl anymore, Dad. I’m a genin. If I don’t train like this, I’ll get myself - and my team - _killed._ I can’t ‘take it easy.’ People’s lives are going to depend on me.” There was something she didn’t want to see, in their expression, but she didn’t stay to find out; storming past them, she went to have a quick shower - she ran it scalding hot, and she didn’t know if it was to spite them or herself - and then she slammed her bedroom door behind her.

It was petty, and immature, and it felt _good._

And even so, as the noise reverberated, she sighed and rubbed her face with both hands. The red shine to her skin would be gone in the morning, but for now it still tingled hot and sensitive. A groan slipped out from her lips. “Damn it, Sakura.” Muttered to herself, rubbing her face again. More vigorous, this time. As if trying to wipe something away. Loathe as she was to do it after throwing a fucking tantrum, she knew she needed to go back downstairs. If not to talk it out with her parents, then at least to _eat._ She’d skipped lunch today - the whole team had - and she couldn’t afford to miss meals.

They were talking, when she walked into the kitchen. Abrupt silence, when they noticed her, and she sighed, but there was no point in pursuing it. “... Are you alright, flower?” her father asked tentatively as she wandered over to the fridge.

Sakura put down the urge to brush him off. “I need to eat. Training is hard.” Not a complaint. There was too much to do, too much resting on her. If it was easy, then she wasn’t trying hard enough. She pretended not to see the glance they exchanged, helped herself to a whole stick of salami, and then went about getting herself a bowl of rice. “... I know you’re just worried about me.” It was as close to an apology as they were going to get; Sakura wouldn’t apologise for telling them the truth. “But this is… what I have to do. I’m a shinobi.”

When she finally turned around to face them, they were watching her. Kizashi still had that bubbling fear in his eyes, concern for her; he had always tried to protect her, and never realised how weak that made her. It was done out of love, however misguided. But Mebuki, when Sakura looked at her, had a fierce expression, and a glint of pride in her eyes. Something hot and unwelcome swelled in Sakura’s chest.

“Remember to take lunch tomorrow,” her mother told her, voice as stern as ever, and Sakura chose not to notice the kick she gave Kizashi under the table as her father drew breath to speak. Instead, he just smiled.

So Sakura smiled back. It felt… wrong, somehow, deliberately showing a positive response. This was the kind of behaviour she wanted from her parents. Getting it all in the open now - making sure that they understood she wouldn’t be swayed from her path, and reassuring them that she could really do it - would put a stop to the fallout they’d had in her… future? Past? Whichever. (Maybe it was both).

But it still felt like she was… manipulating them. _Training_ them. It wasn’t their fault she wasn’t their young, naive daughter anymore.

“I’m going back to my room. I need to sleep.” And she did, the faintest muscle tremble in her legs as she took her food upstairs and dropped onto her bed to finish eating. She’d take her dishes down in the morning. Dinner disappeared quickly, and Sakura ignored the faint discomfort of it as she dropped herself into bed proper. She was out in moments.

…

The next day was more of the same.

She was only ten minutes late, this time, but Sasuke and Hinata were already sparring. Concealing her chakra signature was almost second nature, as she approached, but she thought better of it the closer she got. Sasuke and Hinata were genin; they were not the people she remembered. They didn’t have those skills. In all likelihood, they wouldn’t even sense her signature - but Kakashi would, if he was watching them (and she had no doubt that he was), and he’d know if she was concealing it.

Too early for that skill, too young to be capable of concealing it from someone like Kakashi. Weariness pulsed through her as she thought about it, chasing the aching stiffness of her whole body. She was never going to be able to let her guard down. There was always going to be another consideration she had to make, another judgement to juggle, another decision about what she risked letting Kakashi-sensei see. He was too clever, his senses too keen. He wouldn’t miss any mistake she made.

How the hell was she supposed to hide the truth from him long term?

_Maybe I shouldn’t._

Sakura discarded the thought, and called out a hello just as Hinata and Sasuke clashed; Hinata stumbled, and Sasuke had her on the ground in moments. _Oops._ “Sorry,” she added, wincing while she watched Sasuke let Hinata up. It was only the third day of their official training, but that they were already consistently sparring was a good sign. Sakura made a note to encourage it, at some point.

“Thought you’d be later,” Sasuke said instead of greeting her back, a low grunt as he brushed off his shirt and headed back to his half of the sparring circle.

Heart sinking, Sakura looked away. She recognised that tone; the same begrudging tone he’d always used when he’d been forced to admit Naruto had done something right. She’d upset him.

It wasn’t hard to figure out why. All the new memories she had of him showed that they were good friends. They’d actively done Academy tasks together. She’d been a bridge between him and Ino - they hadn’t exactly been friends in their own right, both too meanly competitive, but she’d managed them somehow. She’d told him all her secret insecurities. He’d complained about Itachi, and his father - and then, later, he’d tried to show her the things Itachi was teaching him. Told her when he’d caught Itachi acting too strange for comfort, or when his brother had vanished for days at a time following the Konoha Massacre and scared the hell out of him. Quietly admitted when he missed his father.

Silently, Sakura cursed the fake (real?) version of herself who hadn’t bothered to put the effort into learning what Sasuke had offered to her, rather than just the theory. _All the knowledge in the world does not a ninja make._

But she didn’t know how to make up for the vast gap she’d suddenly put between them. Showing up late, refusing to talk about it. Her… ‘moods’, the little flashes of her real ( _fake_ ) self had been called. Only this time, the change was permanent, and she couldn’t expect Sasuke to understand it any more than she could expect him not to notice. Maybe this team wasn’t all he had left, not this time, but the idea that _she_ could push him away, that _she_ could be the reason he went vengeful chilled her.

It was ridiculous, considering her friendship that important, that he might react so drastically just because she’d changed - but it didn’t stop the fear from circulating all the same. _I’ll make it up to him,_ she told herself, and then tried to stow all those thoughts away. They weren’t useful right now.

“... I wanted to get through my warmups,” she offered lamely; tried not to see the brief glance Sasuke sent her. There was more she should say - an apology, maybe, anything - but she couldn’t figure out how to say it in a way that wouldn’t just make everything worse, and before she could try Sasuke and Hinata had leapt back into their spar.

Maybe it was better that way, as Sakura set her bag down by the rock (it was a welcome nostalgia and far too familiar at the same time) and began going through her stretches to warm up before Kakashi showed his face. It was only when Hinata put Sasuke face-down in the dust that she realised he was eyeing her while she did; belatedly, it occurred to her that she wasn’t doing the Academy-taught warmups. These were the ones Tsunade-sensei had taught her, the slow and heavy movements, the motion of chakra designed to expand her distal capacity and control.

Katas that they didn’t recognise. _Shit._ But it would be even more suspicious to switch to Academy-standard now, when it had already been noticed. Somehow even worse to react as if she’d been _caught._ Fuck, fuck.

Too late. Too stupid - she hadn’t even considered it. _You can’t do this._

The thought took her breath away, and she came to a slow standstill. _She hadn’t even considered it._ Everything had been so… so… There hadn’t been _time_ to consider it. There hadn’t been any other options.

Only Naruto could have given them the sheer power needed to pull off the technique he’d been given by the Bijuu. Only Sasuke - Sharingan ablaze, eyes burning with the Mangekyō he’d inherited from Itachi - had been able to perform it. Sakura didn’t have the faintest clue what the technique looked like; if she fucked up this one chance, she couldn’t repeat it. Kakashi-sensei had been… dead. There’d been no choice. No time to think. They’d cast the jutsu, and she’d dove into it headfirst like Team Seven always had, and there’d been no other path to take.

But maybe she couldn’t do this. Maybe she couldn’t do it alone.

Maybe she couldn’t do it at all.

“...akura?” came Hinata’s shy voice, and Sakura jolted as her train of thought broke. Eyes were wide, as she stared dumbly and tried to feel her expression from the inside out. “Are… are you okay?” Sasuke stood a little further back, arms folded, eyes shadowed - but he was watching intently as Hinata put a hesitant hand on Sakura’s shoulder.

It felt like being touched by fire, and Sakura had jerked away before she could consciously decide, taken a step back and pulled her own hands up defensively, as if she was under attack. Her heart was beating painfully hard. “Sorry,” came out automatically, harsh and rushed. “I’m— Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry.”

Sasuke scowled at her. Read the lie all too easily. “Come on,” he muttered, turning away. “We might as well get some laps in before Kakashi-sensei shows up.” Bitter.

But Sakura couldn’t think of anything to say to refute it, to explain herself, to make it better. Instead, she ducked her head and fell into line as they sorted themselves into a silent order - Sasuke at the front, Sakura at the back - and began jogging laps around the training ground.

There was so much she needed to do. Talk to Itachi. Find out more about the Konoha Massacre. Convince Kakashi she was who she seemed to be (or… didn’t seem to be). Make sure Sasuke stayed home and happy. Help Hinata. Find Naruto. Train. She didn’t have the faintest clue how to do any of it. Her friends were all gone; these children she was trying to save were just… pale imitations, even if she _knew_ how unfair that was of her. She had so much to figure out, and she had to do it alone. She wasn’t sure if she could.

But… she had to try.

So Sakura focused on keeping her breathing even, put one foot in front of the other, and ran her laps in silence.

* * *

It was still early, although Itachi had sent a crow ahead of himself to warn of his impending tardiness again. Normally he wouldn’t have dreamt of it - but to his shock, when he had arrived the day before, his team had been… working. Neji had been scowling at them, obviously aggravated, but he’d taken charge with an ease Itachi hadn’t expected of him.

Perhaps a strategy he would have to test a few more times. So, despite the prickling uneasiness of it, Itachi waited on the trail out to the training grounds without guilt.

He saw Kakashi before he sensed him. Chakra concealed - almost but not quite completely - as he picked his way across Konoha’s border wall. _Border_ was a strong word for it, technically; the training grounds were set up outside of Konoha proper, to take advantage of the carefully cultivated landscape, but there was still a wall built to section them off. He was earlier than Itachi had anticipated.

 _He’s anxious,_ Itachi thought as he pulsed his own chakra signature, quietly walking across the wall himself to drop down on the far side. It only made sense, given yesterday’s activity. The anxiety was one that they shared. Of Kakashi’s students, it hadn’t been _Sakura_ that Itachi had expected to be the target of a Sharingan scan. Sakura had been Sasuke’s friend for years - Itachi had interacted with her personally plenty of times before. There was always an uneasiness between them, but it was entirely Itachi’s fault. It was hard to forget a girl who’d fearlessly walked into the Uchiha compound at seven years old and demanded his presence.

But nothing had ever come of it. Outrageously bold or not, plenty of young Academy students idolised older shinobi, idealised their experiences and actions, chased after their feats. It wasn’t her fault the reality never lived up to the rumours.

And even then, he’d still taken his time with it, watching as she arrived late with chakra warm in his eyes. (Amusing, that she’d taken after her sensei, even if worryingly out of character). Even having already offered assurances, he’d agreed to stop by her house that night, to observe her for unusual actions - to observe her parents for the same. If he felt guilty about spying on Sasuke’s friend, then at the very least it had been a harmless action.

Kakashi stopped at his side a moment later, and the dull shine to his visible eye spoke of yet another sleepless night. At least he didn’t seem to be favouring any fresh injuries. “I saw nothing out of place,” Itachi offered before Kakashi could ask, and he was rewarded with the faint shift of his mask that betrayed a scowl.

“... Thanks.” Quiet, almost reluctant - but Itachi tilted his head in acknowledgement. As strange as the request was, and as much as Itachi disliked going behind Sasuke’s back in this manner with his friend, there was nothing to be done for it. All Kakashi had to do was ask, and Itachi would comply.

“What is it about her that warrants such suspicion?” he heard himself asking anyway. Itachi found it hard to imagine Sakura doing anything to cause Kakashi such distress as he was in, and yet here they were. Even now, Itachi would have been tempted to put it down to sheer paranoia were it not for Sasuke’s report back the previous evening. He, too, had complained of Sakura’s behaviour. ‘One of her moods’, he’d said - but it apparently hadn’t abated, and that the peculiar condition she had only exhibited on occasion was lasting longer than a day was… concerning. Not merely for what it might mean for those around her, what it was causing that had Kakashi-senpai reacting this way, what obvious emotional pain it was inflicting on Sasuke, but for the girl herself.

Sighing, Kakashi ran a hand through his hair. “... That girl is not a genin,” he finally said.

Itachi considered that. “High skill at a young age is hardly unheard of.” The two of them set rather extreme precedents, in fact, but from the narrowing of Kakashi’s eye, it wasn’t a reminder that he appreciated. Not that it mattered overmuch; it was the truth. Prodigies of various skill and power weren’t exactly uncommon amongst Konoha - even if the fact she was civilian-born made it more unusual, there was no reason to assume she simply wasn’t a genius. Even her graduation at a normal age wasn’t a marker against the possibility. Tsunade-sama had stopped practicing advanced graduation of students except in the most extreme cases almost as soon as she had taken her office.

That, amongst many other reforms of Konoha law. As tumultuous as that time had been, as awful as the circumstances that had led to her instalment were, Itachi was grateful for it. Tsunade was a Hokage who shared a lot of Itachi’s reticence for combat, who valued the wellbeing of her village over its reputation.

And if that had been all of it, Itachi would have pushed harder at the idea that perhaps, Sakura was simply another genius in the making. She was certainly _clever_ enough to earn the title.

But Itachi had watched her train. He had seen her capabilities himself, as she aged from a young student to the genin she was now.

And he knew better.

“Don’t bullshit me, Itachi.” The warning was implicit. _I’m not in the mood._ Itachi sighed and shifted his weight, ever so slightly.

He was regretting the decision to get up before dawn, now. “I’m… uncertain what you want me to say, senpai. I’ve not experienced anything suspicious or devious in my years of Sakura’s acquaintance. I’ve found nothing in my - admittedly brief - observations of her parents.”

“She should _not_ be able to pull out Tsunade’s signature technique without warning.” Itachi was silent; he couldn’t refute that. What Tsunade did to enhance her strikes was more complicated than simply washing them with chakra. While it was possible to inflict extra damage by blowing chakra when one hit something - something that most shinobi did or had done in the past - Tsunade’s efforts went far deeper and far more complex than that. They required godlike chakra control, and no small amount of effort. It had taken the Sannin years to develop. “Even if I bought the idea she picked it up out of a _book,_ her library records don’t include anything that even _might_ contain that information.”

And, Kakashi didn’t say, anything that did wouldn’t be freely available in the civilian part of Konoha library. Beyond even those reasons, Itachi would have noticed if Sasuke’s best friend had been practicing such a technique. There really was no good explanation - but neither he nor Kakashi had seen anything amiss with the Sharingan, and any deeper inspection of her chakra would require med-nins or a Hyuuga.

No matter how strange the situation or stressed Kakashi seemed, Itachi was unwilling to involve Hiashi if they could avoid it. The general animosity between the Hyuuga clan and the Uchiha was uncalled for and damaging - but Hiashi was… dangerous. Fanatical. Not everybody could be reasoned with. Sometimes, it didn’t matter how logical or _right_ one was.

For a moment, they just looked at each other. “What are you willing to do about it?” Itachi asked quietly. He wouldn’t stop Kakashi from whatever decision he made, but he wanted to know what it would be. So he was prepared for whatever happened to Sakura. So he knew what to try and tell Sasuke.

Another hand went through Kakashi’s hair. The movement was… uncontrolled. Not obvious, but it tugged his hair the wrong way for just a moment, and his other hand was once more balled into a fist in his pocket. “I don’t know,” Kakashi admitted quietly. “Maybe she _is_ innocent.”

And taking action against her would only put a Konoha genin through unnecessary hell. But if Itachi had really been blind all these years, if there _was_ something about her that posed a threat, then doing nothing put Hinata and (more importantly) Sasuke in danger. It was a difficult thought to swallow. For as childish as she usually was, Itachi had grown quite fond of her. Even so, he wouldn’t hesitate to act if she turned out to be a risk to Sasuke.

“... Then you simply have to observe her.” Perhaps Itachi could assist in that. It would hardly be unusual for Sasuke to invite her over; it probably wouldn’t take much nudging. “My experience with her says that she wouldn’t willingly put your team in danger.”

Kakashi nodded. “I should let you get to your own team,” he murmured, slipping his second hand into his pocket and attempting to breathe out the tension in his shoulders.

A promise hastily made prodded at the back of Itachi’s mind, and he hid a grimace. “Actually, I have a question.” Kakashi paused. “Sasuke complained that you had him do nothing yesterday.” It wasn’t that Itachi doubted Kakashi’s methods - he knew only too well that the man had never done a thing without purpose. But Itachi had promised Sasuke he would ask.

“I did.”

Itachi considered his question. In the end, he settled on simplicity: “Why?”

Something dark and haunted burned through Kakashi’s face, erasing for a moment the hollow tiredness he was almost-but-not-quite hiding. Meeting Itachi’s gaze squarely, Kakashi wrinkled his nose under the mask. “You know as well as I do how important it is that he doesn’t ever follow orders blindly.”

Itachi’s blood ran cold; a perfect match to Kakashi’s quiet voice.

* * *

There was darkness both within and without, but he didn’t need the light to see through it. The darkness without was unconcerning, even with the sharp scent of blood in the air, or the distant currents of chakra expulsion as the source tried to flee. He didn’t need to rush - there was no point. Escaping the dark down here was impossible. And besides, they wouldn’t have been sent to him if they were intended to return.

The darkness within was… brighter, in a way. Thinner, easier to see through - but the _drip drip_ of water echoed through it, and it suffocated him with an unending, silent mockery. All the same, he sat down and sank into it, walked the phantom halls with the water that didn’t really exist swirling around his ankles.

It took some time in the darkness within to find what he sought. It always did. Frustration wound under his skin anyway, sparking into irritation as the minutes ticked by. The parasite was getting better at evading him.

Finally, as was inevitable, he found the end of the chain as it slithered through the water in the parasite’s wake, and with a feral grin he stomped down on it. There was a moment as it went taut when nothing happened, and then the ripples came back to him through the water they waded through, the clatter and sudden slack as the parasite reached the end of its tether and bounced back. A second later, a snarl rumbled past him, raising ethereal goosebumps on his arms despite the fact that nothing here was entirely real.

Reaching down, he wound the chain around his wrist, up his forearm to his elbow, and then gave a vicious yank. The snarl was laced with pain this time, the ripples bigger and more violent. “Don’t make me drag you,” he called out. He might have even sounded cheerful.

They met in the middle, his easy stride slower than the reluctant slink of the parasite, and he offered it a pleased smile. Blue eyes glinted darkly. The chain he held was only one of many that cascaded off the parasite’s body - such as it was - in all directions. Some were too short to reach the ground, and some only wove around to connect to other chains, a crosshatch of black metal and deep stakes driven into joints and core chakra points. Small, circular Seals lined the parasite’s portable cage, tiny and precise notches tagged to it in coagulated chakra that resembled green wax.

“You made me chase you,” he told it, almost admonishingly. Red eyes lowered to stare at him, and he drank in the fathomless hatred that shone within them. “I thought you were smarter than that.”

The growl that followed made everything around them shake, but he simply laughed at its attempt at intimidation. Long ears lay across its skull, the pinna nailed down with jagged lengths of the black metal. The tips reached all the way back to the parasite’s shoulders, and remained there beneath the massive spikes of cold steel that punched into the joints. At every wound along its body, thick red fluid seeped out in viscous dribbles.

It let out another sound as he approached, winding the chain tighter around his arm until he could reach one that dangled from its muzzle. Dragging that one down drew forth a deep, rumbled whimper. It wound around the parasite’s snout in tight coils, sharp points digging in along every point of contact, until the chain broke into smaller lengths that ran up just shy of its eyes. Deeper pins were sunk in just below each side of its jaw, buried close to its throat.

Razor thin pupils met his gaze as he reached up to bop it on the nose. Another whimper, as the motion knocked in further the lone metal spoke sank into the wet black of its nose, set perfectly between its nostrils. He laughed. “Aw, you’re cute. If you didn’t resist me every time, this would be a lot easier on you.” There was no sympathy in his voice as he pulled on the chains, and very slowly the parasite sank to its knees. Further. Water splashed up the walls and left dry marks on his clothes as it washed up to his knees in the wake of the parasite’s bulk, brought all the way down to its belly.

Paws tipped with black claws bigger than his whole body lay still as he released the chains and walked closer. Low rumbles, held deep in its chest, chased him as he got close enough to put in his hand in the red that bled from every Sealed wound. “Yes, yes, I know,” he teased, even as he turned his palm up and the chakra-blood sank into his skin. “You’ll kill me one day.” He patted its deep orange fur. “Good boy.”

The snarl was only in his head, as he returned to the darkness without. Blue eyes swirled crimson as he opened them, and his senses expanded until he had no doubt where he’d been dropped into the dungeon - and in moments, he’d marked a path through his mental map that would lead straight to the prey. Sharp fangs came bare in a wicked grin. He didn’t try to be silent as he took off in pursuit, nails curved into ragged claws on both hands and feet, letting the scrape of them give away his approach, letting it fill the air with the smell of abject fear.

The hunt went on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please Note  
> Sakura is not, nor has she ever been, useless. I love the girl to death, but she is far from a reliable narrator, and she's always far too hard on herself. The more things change, the more things stay the same.
> 
> Next chapter due: **6th April 2020.**
> 
> (Don't @ me about how fast this got written lmaooo)


	6. As Time and Training Both Wear On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lessons are there to be learned - even if you don't realise they're being taught.

Most of the time, Sasuke considered himself to be a fairly reasonable person. It was easier, these days; as much as he tried not to think about the empty place in his home where his father used to be, it was a lot more relaxed than it ever had been before. Itachi was calmer, now - whatever had been… happening, prior to that night, it hadn’t hurt any of them in a long time. The frustration that he’d thought he would just have to live with when he was younger was a distant memory, almost forgotten as his requests for Itachi to train with him were  _ granted _ now, instead of brushed aside in favour of whatever stress he’d always been under.

So, most of the time, Sasuke thought his life to be a fairly happy one, and on the occasion that Itachi refused him he’d found that the clawing nameless emotions the rejection had produced no longer surfaced. Itachi having a genin to train had been annoying, sure, but it wasn’t as if he didn’t make time for Sasuke as well. And besides, now Sasuke was a genin too - even if Itachi hadn’t been given a full team to train this year, Sasuke was supposed to be too busy and worn out to nag him about it anyway.

He was  _ supposed _ to be.

For the fourth day in a row, as he gathered by the  **fucking** rock with his kunoichi teammates, Kakashi-sensei produced a clone for Hinata to chase around and set out a series of strength-building exercises for Sakura to exhaust herself trying to complete. There was little hope in Sasuke’s chest as that one black eye turned on him, but there  _ was _ a little. Surely, today, he’d have something actually worthwhile to do.

Itachi must have asked Kakashi what the fuck he was doing, as promised, because when he’d been questioned he’d just given Sasuke that meaningless little smile. A moment later, he’d tapped two fingers gently to Sasuke’s forehead and gotten to his feet.

_ “Sorry, little brother.” _

And even then, even after all that, Sasuke had shown up, sparred Hinata until Sakura had shown too, and then ran laps with them until Kakashi bothered to arrive. It was getting later and later every day.

At least Sakura was already improving; not that Sasuke knew what to even say to her about it. It had been a week, and her weird mood hadn’t cleared up. She wouldn’t tell him about it, or participate in all the silent mini rituals they’d developed over the years, or even just… talk to him like a fucking human being. She was being weird and distant and  _ wrong _ and Sasuke was starting to think she’d never go back to normal.

So, Sasuke liked to think he was a reasonable person, and he knew very well that doing as he was told by those who outranked him was very important. They would have information that he didn’t, or they’d be making split-second decisions in the field, and hesitation - insubordination - would get both him and his allies killed. He was  _ reasonable,  _ damn it, and he would bear whatever insane training that his sensei assigned him.

But once again, crushing the little hope he hadn’t meant to be carrying,  _ damn it,  _ **_damn it_ ** — Kakashi-sensei offered him an eye-smile that Sasuke was starting to hate and said: “Sit down, Sasuke. You can watch Hinata try to hit me.”

Four days.

_ Four days _ of this, of  _ nothing, _ while Hinata had cut down the time it took her to catch and dispel Kakashi’s clone by half and Sakura had managed not to throw up at all yesterday.

He didn’t sit down.

Instead, his hands clenched tight at his sides and something  _ snapped _ in the gaps beneath his ribcage, like a rubber band stretched past its limit. Blinding heat rose in his chest, in his eyes, under every inch of skin, along every single nerve.  _ “You can watch.” _ This wasn’t training. This was a fucking  **joke.**

“Fuck you, Sensei,” he spat, barely even hearing himself speak.  _ Backtalk, backtalk. _ He was going to get sent back to the Academy. He was going to  _ fail, _ and it was his own fault, because he couldn’t just shut up and do as his sensei ordered him to - and the whiplash of whatever had broken was an ache, underneath the white-hot rage, and he felt like he had the day he’d thought too highly of himself and cracked a rib, the day Itachi had carried him home and pretended not to notice the loose tears of pain that had leaked out.  **“Fuck you.”** It still wasn’t shouted, but Sakura was staring at him. Further away, fully ignoring the clone, Hinata was staring too, eyes wide and mouth wider.

Kakashi stared down at him. The one eye narrowed. Sasuke didn’t even see him move, but suddenly he was close, in Sasuke’s face, a kunai held in a casual grip.  _ I should be afraid, _ some part of Sasuke’s brain insisted, but he could barely understand it, let alone express it. There was no fear in how Sasuke stepped into the glare, and levelled back as fierce a glare of his own as he could manage.

“Do you want to repeat that, Uchiha?” Kakashi’s voice was very soft; like a slip of fur, freshly cut from a still-writhing animal.

Sasuke bared his teeth. “Fuck. You.” And there was no backing out now, so Sasuke let chakra spill out of his hands and shoved Kakashi as hard as he could. Tried to. Kakashi-sensei was gone in an instant, and Sasuke stumbled as he shoved thin air. There was a casual tap to the middle of his back as he tried to correct himself, and instead he sprawled face-first in the dirt. Twisting, he glared over his shoulder at where Kakashi now stood, spinning his kunai idly on one finger.

There was cold disappointment in his gaze, and Sasuke saw red. The next thing he knew, he was pinned down painfully. One of Kakashi’s feet was planted in the small of his back, enough pressure that trying to wriggle out hurt like hell and made his spine creak. His torso was rotated slightly - painfully - as his right wrist was held tight in Kakashi’s hand, his whole arm pulled up and back in a line so straight that his elbow ached. Kakashi was pulling hard. If Sasuke struggled, he risked wrenching his shoulder out of its socket. The kunai was held disturbingly close to Sasuke’s wrist.

Panting, each breath distorted with snarls of impotent rage, Sasuke stayed where he was.

“Do you have anything more eloquent to say than  _ fuck me?” _ Kakashi asked, and the eerie, dangerous softness was gone. Instead, he sounded… bored. As if Sasuke had outlived his own interest. As if it didn’t matter. As if  _ Sasuke _ didn’t matter.

He still resisted the urge to struggle free, but it was a near thing. Shattering thunder was pounding in his head, accompanied by the quaking of his whole body, a tremble that ran in time with his raging heartbeat. Fingers curled, nails digging into his palm where Kakashi still held his wrist too tight, just a little too far away. He could taste dusty soil on every inhale. “Fuck… your training…” An edge of pain slipped into his voice despite himself, and it only made him feel hotter, angrier. Maybe it would be worth popping his shoulder, just to get the jump on Kakashi, just to **hit him.** “I’d rather go… back than just… sit on my ass all day.” It would hurt, it would hurt a _lot._ Fingers flexed again. The faintest little tug, a taste of rotation and the zing of pain as his shoulder protested. “I don’t know… why you won’t train me. But fuck you.” Kakashi’s grip was tight. A good chunk of his weight was on Sasuke’s back. If he did it, he’d unbalance the man.

Maybe worth it, just to spite him. Just to see his fucking face - or whatever there was of it.

Sasuke gathered his chakra, tensed his muscles, and spun against Kakashi’s grip. His jaw was clenched, ready for the pain, swiping out with his other arm to try and catch the jōnin mocking him. Surprise him. Knock him over. Anything.

There was no pain. In the same instant, Kakashi-sensei let go and stepped back, and Sasuke must have looked stupid as hell lashing out at thin air, his suddenly free hand jolting flat into his own chest protectively, but that didn’t matter. It registered before he’d finished that he’d been released - the fury was primal, almost nauseating. A hand dipped to his kunai holster and there was no conscious decision made, but his fingers came back out gripping one of his chakra metal-edged shuriken.

Sasuke didn’t think. There was no room inside his skull for anything but the searing static anger. Chakra flared and clung to the shuriken as he hurled it blindly towards Kakashi.  _ Sensei, _ indeed — what a fucking lie. Worthless and cruel as a teacher.

Lightning crackled under his skin briefly, chakra boiling and rising to his call, and then a sharp burst of noise shot through the air, like the snap of a hundred tiny whips. Immediately afterwards, there was eerie silence. As Sasuke forced his vision to work properly, he saw Kakashi standing calmly with one hand lifted; lodged in his palm was Sasuke’s shuriken. His head tilted slightly, and there was another burst of crackling as Kakashi allowed the lightning to dissipate from his skin.

Plucking the shuriken from his hand earned the faintest wince and a smearing of blood.

All at once, the rage vapourised into fear, and Sasuke could only bring himself to stare as Kakashi came close again and crouched in front of him. He hadn't merely disobeyed, or mouthed off. He'd  _ attacked. _ His jōnin-sensei; his direct superior. Kakashi was going to send him back to the Academy and suddenly, Sasuke wasn't entirely sure he didn't deserve it.  _ I've been doing nothing for almost a week.  _ As much shame as it would bring… maybe he'd still be better off. Kakashi obviously didn't want them. Giving him an excuse to finally get rid of Sasuke was probably inevitable anyway.

It didn't stop the breathless shiver in his chest, the sudden dryness in his mouth. He didn't want to go back to the Academy. He didn't want to fail. He didn't want… He didn't…  _ I don't…  _

So quiet that, at first, Sasuke wasn't even sure he was hearing anything at all, Kakashi-sensei started to laugh.

Sasuke could feel the other two still staring, but he couldn’t move his gaze from Kakashi’s face, even as the laughter picked up in volume and his eye crinkled shut.  _ What? _ Was he… laughing  _ at _ Sasuke? Surely he’d expected this reaction at some point, surely he’d been pushing for it, for Sasuke’s shame to be his own fault. What was…?

Electricity surged and the shuriken in Kakashi’s hand lit up brilliant white, snapping and fizzing. He flicked his fingers -  _ lightning, Kakashi-sensei has a lightning affinity _ \- and the shuriken buried itself in the ground between them. Energy dissipated into it, a sharp crack as it flowed out and then went silent again. “Good.” Spoken softly again, but there was… affection? Maybe?  _ Something, _ a note in his voice that was almost friendly. As he stood again, he offered Sasuke his uninjured hand. Numbly, Sasuke took it.

“... What?” Dragged easily to his feet, and released.

Kakashi quirked his visible eyebrow. “That took you longer than I thought it would.” The words washed through the lingering fear, shifting it back through anger and then into nothing. He stared. Shaking his head, Kakashi leant down slightly, until Sasuke found he couldn’t look away from his one black eye. There was a dark smudge beneath it that Sasuke hadn’t noticed before. Kakashi was… tired? “I said, that took you longer than I thought it would.”

It took too many moments for Sasuke to process that. “You… wanted me to attack you?”

Again, Kakashi laughed. Soft. Quiet. “Why did you waste your time - and mine - doing nothing?” There was no attack in his tone; cajoling, almost. It was such a startling difference that Sasuke couldn’t even think to question it, like somebody else had suddenly taken his sensei’s place.

“I… Because you told me to.” What else was he supposed to do?

The look between them was overwhelming, something deep and intense that Sasuke just couldn’t quite place. Something… personal. “Yes, I did.” Voice gentle.  _ What the fuck is happening? _ “Do you think I should have?”

It clicked together.

When Sasuke finally responded, there was a newfound confidence in his voice. “No.”

“No.” Confirmation. His eye crinkled, and Kakashi’s mask shifted into the shadow of a smile. “Do you know what I’ve been trying to teach you?”

_ He shouldn’t have given me those orders. _ A moment went by, a hollow sensation of isolation, like nothing else existed outside of Sasuke and Kakashi’s unblinking stare.  _ I shouldn’t have  _ **_followed_ ** _ those orders. _ “I…” Everything stretched out. “Don’t follow stupid orders.”

This time, when Kakashi laughed, it was sharp and sparkling, stepping back from Sasuke so they weren’t in each other’s faces. It was like a genjutsu had been broken; Sasuke glanced around at their teammates. Sakura was still just staring, motionless, but there was a shadow in her eyes that was almost… unnatural. She wasn’t looking at Sasuke. Her gaze was fixed on Kakashi.

The crawling emotions under his skin were familiar and unnamable, and Sasuke looked away from her. Further on, standing by Kakashi’s clone (also smiling), was Hinata. She had her hands up at her chest, fingers laced, white eyes on Sasuke - and she was grinning at him, unrestrained. When he made eye contact with her, she clapped her hands. Bounced on her heels a moment. Totally silent, but celebratory - and for him.

"Good." Kakashi broke the suspension, and everything seemed to settle. Well, almost. Sakura still didn't move, but there was the sudden  _ pop _ of a shadow clone, and Kakashi blinked. Looked towards Hinata, who had dimmed down into a pleased little smile. “... Very good, Hinata.” A moment passed, and then Kakashi created another shadow clone. “This one will fight back.”

The clone considered Hinata for a moment and then jumped at her. A second later, they were dancing around each other, fighting for the upper hand. Hinata was instantly on the losing end again - but there was a determination in her face that was unfamiliar, and welcome.

“Alright, Sasuke,” Kakashi called his attention back again. “Let’s get these shuriken sorted out. Your throw was sloppy.” He tugged off his glove as he spoke, inspecting the wound to his palm, before bringing out a short length of bandage wrap and a small, soft dressing. “Once you can throw them properly, then we can work on applying your chakra.” Amused, almost.

But Sasuke didn’t care if Kakashi had flipped some sort of personality switch or something. He’d take whatever it took to actually get some proper training from the man; no matter how much of an asshole he was, Kakashi was  _ also _ the strongest jōnin in Konoha. If managing his crazy was what it took, Sasuke wouldn’t complain. Leaning down, he tugged his shuriken out of the dirt - tried not to be impressed by how deep it had sunk with such a short throw - and used his shirt to rub the debris off it.

Glanced up, squinting slightly, trying to make sure Kakashi really meant it. “So… you’ll show me?” He offered the shuriken to his sensei, reaching down with his other hand to unsheathe the second one attached to his thigh.

Kakashi’s mask twitched - a  _ smirk _ \- and he took it.

* * *

Two weeks after officially becoming Kakashi-sensei’s genin, they took their first D-rank mission.

Kakashi showed up early - and by 'early', Hinata meant 'only three hours late' - with three copies of a small mission scroll. Waving it around, he’d tossed one to each of them; unravelling it had revealed a neat but cramped hand explaining the details.

It wasn’t a particularly complicated mission, but Hinata had felt the thrill under her skin all the same as they’d fallen into line at Kakashi’s heel and followed him. Hard manual labour - moving about construction materials - wasn’t exactly challenging, but even as genin they were shinobi, and they were faster than almost any civilian Hinata cared to name. It was why so many simple tasks got turned into D-ranks in the first place, that shinobi labour was so goddamn efficient. Civilians might look at them and see children, but the fact remained: they were qualified shinobi.

So, even as quickly as they started sweating under the fading summer sun, while Kakashi watched with disinterest from between the pages of his book, leaning against a shady wall, Hinata and her teammates felt pride in doing the work. Sakura took the lead when they had to maneuvre lengths of timber or other materials that were too heavy or bulky to manage alone, directing them without hesitation or even apparently the fear she might be ignored.

Eventually, close to noon, Hinata was the first to break. She needed to sit down for a few minutes, drink some water, maybe eat something. It wasn’t that she couldn’t have kept going if she tried, but it was something Kakashi-sensei had called her on several times over the last week. The first few had simply been orders to take a break, and she hadn’t even contemplated arguing with him. He was a jōnin and held rank on her in any case, but first and foremost he was her sensei. She owed him complete obedience.

But she bit her lip and glanced over at him as she told Sasuke and Sakura that she was going to sit down for a few minutes, and they followed her gaze. Sakura nodded, Sasuke muttered that he’d join her, and nothing more was said.

They were both thinking about the last incident, Hinata knew it. She couldn’t bring herself to look Sasuke in the face as they sat down near Kakashi-sensei and dug around in their team snack bag. It hadn’t exactly been meant to humiliate her, she was sure; Kakashi’s clone had kept his voice low, kept his back to where Sasuke and the real Kakashi were working with Sasuke’s special shuriken, ignored the way Sakura had stumbled in her laps. All the same, they’d noticed.

It shouldn't have even been a big thing. Not really. He’d ordered a break as she’d barely caught herself on the ground, clumsy, trying to avoid a counterattack that she should have anticipated but hadn’t. She’d expected it to be just the same, and she’d gotten to her feet to wander back to the little raised dias upon which stood three training posts that none of them used for actual training. The spot that they’d silently agreed to use as their central gathering in the training grounds. It was a little bit out of the way - if Hinata was honest, the big rock by the sparring circle was probably a better location, but neither she nor Sakura had even mentioned the possibility to Sasuke. Hinata was pretty sure Sasuke would have bitten their heads off if they’d tried.

Kakashi’s clone had followed her. Crouched down as she’d settled, taken a drink of water and eyed the snack bag. Even if he was a clone and not technically real, he was infused with Kakashi-sensei’s thoughts and memories, so it was basically the same as talking to the real one. Hinata had avoided his eye.

_ “Do you know why I make you take breaks, Hinata?” _ he’d asked. Quietly, but not quietly enough. Something dark and… angry, in his voice. She’d only managed to shake her head. It was a question that she’d barely allowed herself to ponder, why she was the only one who had to take several breaks every day. Sakura was working far harder than Hinata was, and suffering far worse for the effort. Sasuke went home every day looking worn out but pleased. Kakashi’s clone was teaching her technique, observation of an opponent and calculation of their weaknesses and tendencies - she was being taught how to analyse and triumph, and while she understood the importance of such a skill, it wasn’t half as tiring as what her teammates were doing.

In the silence that had stretched out, she’d contemplated it. Why was she made to stop every couple of hours while Sakura and Sasuke pushed on? She wasn’t tired. She wasn’t even sore. So why?

The answer had come to her quiet and quick.  _ “Because I’m weak.” _ Because there was a reason Kakashi-sensei was trying to teach her psychological warfare instead of bothering trying to strengthen her actual combat abilities. The morning spars with Sasuke were helping, admittedly, but Sasuke was unbelievably patient with her lacklustre skills. Too encouraging, too kind. Complimenting her any time she got something even half-right. He still won most of them.

It only made sense that Kakashi would have to coddle her.

But his clone had narrowed its eye and snatched her wrist out of the air, yanking her into a half-bent position where she sat.  _ “Is that right?” _ he’d asked. Icy.  _ “If you’re weak, then why am I bothering with you at all?” _

Not a protest. His tone had been contemptuous - Sasuke had taken a step closer before the real Kakashi-sensei had nearly taken his ear off with a shuriken, crackling with white lightning. Sakura had stopped running; watching, silent, and making no move to come closer. Even if Hinata had tried to read her expression instead of submitting to the scorn in Kakashi’s, she was sure she wouldn’t have been able to. Sakura was inscrutable.

_ “I don’t know.” _

Kakashi’s clone had let her go and stood up. Let her crumble to the ground.  _ “If you can’t do this, you should quit now. Go home. If you’re weak, then persisting will only get you killed. Maybe, if you’re lucky, you won’t take Sasuke and Sakura with you.” _

Quiet, but not quiet enough. As unreadable as ever, Sakura’s face had darkened before she’d turned away to continue her laps. Sasuke had bared his teeth and hurled the shuriken back at their real sensei, pale blue sparks flying from it. There hadn’t been any reason in Hinata's own reaction - she should have shut up and borne it, because Kakashi-sensei was correct and she had no right to be upset about it. She was too weak to do the moral thing and quit, leave before she cost her teammates their lives, but she was too weak to support them like she should either.

Hinata  _ should _ have kept quiet, but instead she’d felt a surge of tumultuous emotion that she could only identify as humiliated frustration in hindsight, and she’d lashed out. Struck Kakashi’s clone in the shin, shot chakra through her hand. Watched his eye widen a split second before he vanished in a burst of smoke and vapourised chakra.

Across the grounds, the real Kakashi had stiffened before stepping back from Sasuke. Even at this distance, Hinata had been able to pick out the sudden displeasure on what little they could see of his face, the sharp downwards slope of his shoulders.

They’d gotten sent home, despite the fact it hadn’t even been noon yet. The next day - yesterday - nobody had said a thing about it, and they’d gone on as normal.

Dropping the snack bag, empty-handed, Hinata kept her head down and tried to avoid Sasuke’s scrutiny. She’d made a huge mess, she just knew it, but she was too much of a coward to confront it head-on and risk Kakashi-sensei dismissing her on the spot. Even if he had been wrong, and she wasn’t a danger to her team, she’d  _ hit him _ in response. It was different to the first day, when she’d been ordered to hit him and taken advantage of the general distraction. This had been a personal attack, something she’d done out of emotion and a loss of control.

Perhaps she’d had it coming. It wasn’t as if both Sakura and Sasuke hadn’t also attacked Kakashi-sensei. Even if Sakura had looked like she’d done it out of reflex and fear, while Hinata and Sasuke had done it deliberately. Maliciously. The worst part was that she didn’t expect to actually face any consequences for it. Sakura hadn’t. Sasuke had been  _ rewarded _ \- and what the hell kind of insane teaching strategy was that? Kakashi didn’t make any sense.

But he was right, and she’d get them killed, and she couldn’t even bring herself to do anything about it. She needed to work harder, push further. Do anything she could to be better, get stronger. She was the weak link in her team, and she knew that.

So why? Why did Kakashi-sensei take special care to make sure  _ she _ took more breaks than were necessary, to put extra obstacles in her way? He was creating more risk for Sakura and Sasuke. He was making it worse. Was he just… mocking her? Mocking her weakness, her inability to keep up. Maybe he was trying to force her to quit. If he sent her back to the Academy, she’d only end up on another team; maybe with a more sympathetic sensei, one who would allow her shortcomings. Maybe it was better for her to quit entirely, to face the shame it would bring her father, the inevitable disavowment.

Maybe it would be better.

“Hey, Hinata,” Sasuke broke into her thoughts, and she startled. Looked up with wide eyes in spite of herself. He didn’t look upset. He looked… concerned.  _ Stupid. Worry about yourself. _ “You really should eat something.”

Sighing, Hinata eyed the snack bag again. It was Sakura’s doing. Since the day Sasuke had figured out what Kakashi-sensei had been trying to teach him (and it still made no sense to Hinata, but she didn’t question it), she’d started showing up with it. A variety of snacks for them to eat over the course of the day. How she’d managed to guess Hinata’s favourite foods was beyond her, but it made sense that she’d known Sasuke’s. They were old friends, after all.

Though… they hadn’t been acting like it. They’d always hung out together in the Academy; sparring and helping each other with the schoolwork. Sasuke was accomplished in every physical aspect of their teaching, but Sakura had always grasped the theory before anyone else. Except perhaps Shikamaru. Hinata had never been able to quite tell, but Shikamaru had never failed to (reluctantly) give the correct answer whenever Iruka-sensei had called on him personally.

But over the last two weeks… Well, maybe they were hanging out after training. Hinata swore she’d seen more of Sasuke since graduation than Sakura had, but there was no way to validate that claim. It wasn’t their fault that Kakashi-sensei still had Sakura doing non-stop strength and endurance training.

While she reached over to pick out something to nibble on, Sasuke watched Sakura carry something that was almost as big as she was from one end of the construction site to the other. Hinata would have needed at least one of them to help carry it. The training was paying off - Sakura was already getting stronger than them, in terms of raw physicality. Then again… The ground after Sakura had punched it during the bell test flashed in Hinata’s thoughts, and she sighed. Set down the snack bag.

What was up with her? Sakura was… well, weird seemed too tame a word to describe it. Hinata just couldn’t figure it out.

“Hey, um… Sasuke?” Black eyes settled calmly on her. “... Well… Was Sakura always like this? She’s just… She seems… different than she was in the Academy.” Insensitive.  _ Stupid, Hinata. You should have stayed silent. _ Quickly, Hinata took a bite to muffle any further attempts at saying anything, but the damage was already done.

Sasuke frowned, and glanced out after Sakura again. “... No. She wasn’t like this in the Academy.” Something… almost  _ wounded, _ in his voice.

She should just stay quiet, and yet she apparently couldn’t help herself. Swallowing her mouthful, Hinata lowered her hands. “Are you alright?” Quiet. “I mean… I know you’re friends. It’s just seemed… I mean, it’s been a little strained… I mean— Sorry.” Looking away.  _ I can’t even make sure he’s okay right. _

There was a deep sigh. “I don’t know.” Sasuke wasn’t looking at either of them anymore. He fiddled with the paper wrapping of his own snack. “Sometimes she goes a bit weird, but it’s never lasted for very long. Do you remember when we first met Kakashi-sensei?” Hinata nodded - and then realised Sasuke wouldn’t see, eyes fixed on his own hands, and let out a little sound of affirmation. “I thought it was just a weird mood. Bad day for it to happen on, but… she should have been fine the day after.” Finally, a glance up. His eyes were troubled. “I don’t think she’s going to go back to normal.”

_ Oh. _

Hinata bit her lip, trying to think of something to say. These past two weeks had given her some insight into Sasuke as a person - what little she was smart enough to put together from their daily spars. He wasn’t nearly as unapproachable or intimidating as the Uchiha name he carried around, but he was far from a pushover. Strong, willful. She knew him better now, and he seemed to like her well enough -  _ His mistake _ \- but she understood that he and Sakura should have been getting along far better than they were.

It made sense, though, if Sakura was acting like a different person. Sasuke must think he’d lost her, somehow. He probably felt  _ abandoned. _

“I’m sorry,” she finally managed. Weak. Utterly insufficient. Gods, what a terrible teammate she was. Selfish, to stay on when she knew she wasn’t good enough. “Maybe… we could talk to her about it?” If all she could offer was her presence to try and help mend their friendship, then it was the least she was obligated to do. And besides… she didn’t like the dark, unhappy shine in his eyes.

Sasuke waved a hand. “Maybe. It’s not your fault.”

Silence settled over them; not a comfortable silence, tight and heavy and suffocating. What was he thinking about? Hinata couldn’t help but throw him narrow glances, trying to decipher his thoughts from his face. It could be anything. The silence lasted for another ten minutes, while they munched away on their snacks, before it was finally broken by Kakashi-sensei.

“We’re just about done here,” he intoned lightly, wandering over from where he’d been leaning against the wall. “Go help Sakura with the last of it, and then we’ll head back to the training grounds.”

They didn’t need to be told twice. Hinata wanted to try and reassure him, somehow, but she couldn’t think of anything she could say that would even  _ begin _ to help, so she held her tongue and followed Sasuke with her head down to do as they’d been told. A glance back revealed Kakashi-sensei with the snack bag slung over one shoulder, nibbling on something himself. He’d been more reticent than his genin to take advantage of Sakura’s snacks, but she’d insisted. Actually, he’d been surprisingly quick to roll over to it, despite his initial refusals. Whatever that meant.

Sakura smiled at them as they approached. “I’ve got the last of the steel pipes,” she told them between panted breaths. “Could you get that pile of timber and put it back there?” One hand went out to indicate a gap in where they’d been stacking things all morning. Hinata nodded without a word - wherever it was coming from, she had no problem with Sakura’s self-assumed leadership. Even in the bell test, when it hadn’t worked, Hinata couldn’t find real fault with the theory of it.

Sasuke was less pleased by it, eyes narrowing and glancing between them. In the end, he just spat out an irritated “Fine,” and went about it with Hinata trailing behind him. If she didn’t think about it too hard, she thought she saw hurt flash in Sakura’s face - but the other kunoichi smiled quietly to herself as she went about carrying the lengths of metal at their side. It was… a sad smile.

_ Okay, _ Hinata thought to herself, helping Sasuke wedge a wooden beam into place next to the others.  _ I’ll talk to her later. _ If she was going to risk all their lives by sticking around, then the least she could do was get to know them better. She couldn’t just spend every morning sparring Sasuke and not make an effort with Sakura.

And maybe, if she tried harder, she’d be able to fix whatever it was about the girl that had broken.

* * *

For the fifth friday in a row, Ino found herself diving out of the way of an almost invisible shimmer of light that shot out in a line of barely-there rainbow and then burst apart in a fraying chakra detonation. The undergrowth smouldered where she’d been a moment before, even as Shikamaru shot up the tree beside her and Chōji caught a hail of shuriken on the back of one forearm, expanded to easily twice Ino’s size.

He shook off the shuriken before letting go of the jutsu, his arm shrinking back down to normal, and while the pinpricks must be annoying, Ino knew that he wasn’t badly hurt. The important thing about size, after all, was  _ comparison. _ When he caught attacks at that size, even deadly shuriken were about as dangerous as a mosquito bite. Ino caught his glance up from the corner of her eye, noting where Shikamaru must be above their heads, but she didn’t take her eyes off the mark.

“Chōji, you have to force him towards Shika,” she hissed, spinning away from a kunai and darting behind her larger teammate. “There’s shitloads of shadows in here, just force him into range. We only need him to stand still for a moment, okay?”

A sharp cry from over their heads caught their attention, and they both took their eyes off their enemy. Shikamaru’s face caught in a pained expression, teeth gritted; he had one hand clamped against his thigh, fingers digging in tightly. “Shikamaru! Are you alright?” Anxiety rang in Chōji’s voice, but even as Ino reminded herself that he’d be alright there was a rustle of movement to their left.

Reflex kicked in, and Ino threw herself in the opposite direction, sprinting between the nearest trees before jumping and catching herself with one hand. She swung up onto the tree branch, yanked a kunai out of her holster, and twisted to face the way she’d come.

On the ground, Chōji was pinned down, a kunai held a centimetre away from his skin. The point hovered right above his left kidney. Settled on his back, Mitskuni-sensei looked up at them with narrowed, green eyes. “Don’t even think about it,” he warned them softly, and the kunai kissed Chōji’s shirt.

Ino hissed, baring her teeth, but two trees over Shikamaru sighed, dropped to his ass and leaned back against the trunk. Chōji let out a little whimper, followed by “I yield, Sensei.”

“Goddamn it,” she muttered, but Ino too holstered her kunai and sat on her tree branch. One ankle dangled freely while she reached up to undo the bun she’d knotted her hair into. “How are we supposed to catch you, Mitskuni-sensei? You’re too damn fast for Chōji to corner, so Shikamaru can’t nail you.” And she needed direct line-of-sight to pull off her own jutsu, she needed Mitskuni to stand still. Even just for a  _ moment. _

The problem was, of course, that he knew that and he refused to give her the opportunity until he was forced to. No enemy would willingly let her steal their body out from under them either, but this was… different. Valuable - she understood why this was what they did every friday, and that they needed to get better at exactly this tactic before trying to tackle out-of-village missions - but no less frustrating for it.

Mitskuni-sensei sheathed his own kunai and hopped off Chōji’s back, before offering him a hand to his feet. With his other hand, while helping Chōji up, he beckoned down his other two genin. Shikamaru was down before Ino, but it only took them a few moments.

Gritting his teeth against what must be curses, Shikamaru lifted his hand to inspect the damage done to his pants, and the flesh underneath them. Peering over his shoulder, Ino could see the dark red weal through the hole burnt through the fabric, but it hadn’t broken the skin. Mitskuni-sensei wasn’t shy about hitting them with his laser jutsu, but it was never enough to do them real harm. It just took a few days to heal, and stung like a motherfucker.

Shikamaru had taken only a week to realise that when Mitskuni told him to do something, it wasn’t worth the welts he got for slacking off to ignore it. Even Iruka-sensei hadn’t been able to get Shikamaru to do anything before the last minute, so despite the fantastically crude nature of motivation, Ino was impressed.

Fixing them in his gaze, Mitskuni-sensei put his hands on his hips. “You three are unique amongst the genin teams, and I’m sure you already know that. Unlike everyone else, you’re a tried and tested formation; you can  _ expect _ to be sent on missions together regularly for your entire tenure as shinobi.” He was frowning slightly, nibbling on the slim metal ring that went through his lip. “You have a distinct advantage, because your teamwork is going to be leagues ahead of anyone less experienced than Anbu teams.” A glance sideways at Shikamaru revealed that  _ that _ assertion was probably exaggeration for effect, rather than strictly accurate reality, but his frown didn’t mean that Mitskuni was  _ wrong. _ “But that also gives you a distinct vulnerability. You have to assume that your enemies are going to  **know** how you’ll fight them, and plan their own strategy accordingly. Even with three-on-one odds, and an environment to your advantage,” Mitskuni-sensei gestured to the forest around them with the hand missing a finger, “you can’t beat me because you can’t surprise me. You can’t corner me. So what do you have to do?”

Green eyes went to Shikamaru, who sighed and rubbed his face. Muttered something about ‘trouble’ into his palm before shifting his weight to one foot and dropping his hands into his pockets. “We need to create new strategies. Doing the same old things over and over - especially when they’re tactics our dads thought up years ago - won’t net us any gain.”

Mitskuni nodded. “Exactly.” He turned his gaze on Chōji. There was the faintest little frown as he did, just the slightest quirk of the corner of his mouth. An expression Ino was truly coming to loathe; an expression he only wore when he addressed Chōji. “Using your jutsu defensively is smart - you can take hits that your teammates simply can’t - but you’ll never force me into Shikamaru’s shadows if you’re only reacting to me. Your task is to catch me, not fend me off. You’re a shinobi, Chōji.”  _ Oh no. Don’t say it. _ “If you can’t muster the confidence to make a move, you’ll never beat me.”

_ Fuck me. _ It wasn’t that Ino disagreed - she’d spent years already on trying to subtly improve Chōji’s self-confidence - and there was a gentleness to Mitskuni-sensei’s voice as he said it, like there always was. But Chōji still shrank a little in response, gaze dropping like a stone. As kind as he tried to be, Mitskuni didn’t hesitate to point out their flaws.

“Alright. Let’s break for lunch. Shikamaru, it’s your turn to choose where we go.” Ino tuned out whatever answer Shika gave and settled into place at Chōji’s side as they started walking back to Konoha proper to get lunch.

He wouldn’t look at her, even when she gave him a nudge. “Buck up, Chō. We got closer this time. And besides, the forest is only good terrain for Shikamaru; it fucks up my sightlines on Mitskuni-sensei more than it helps, and confined spaces are hardly great for your techniques.” Tossing her hair, as if it was somehow the forest’s fault for being less than ideal for them. Chōji huffed out half a laugh.

“Good point,” Mitskuni called back over his shoulder. “So if I keep insisting we do it in the forest, where Shikamaru has the advantage, what are you going to do about it?”

The question stuck with her, even as they arrived at Shikamaru’s favourite nondescript café and discussion turned social. Mitskuni-sensei was much quieter while they talked about normal friend things, rather than strategy and combat and shinobi stuff.  _ Work-life balance, _ her dad called it. Ino was pretty sure that the majority of shinobi - and especially the bloody jōnin - had never fucking heard of it in their lives. Mitskuni always seemed somewhat uncomfortable when they included him, although they kept doing it.

Well, she and Shikamaru kept doing it. She was pretty sure Shika was only doing it to try and build up a proper knowledge base about their sensei, to compile strengths and weaknesses and extrapolated patterns based on what answers Mitskuni gave, and how he gave them. Ino left him to it. She was far more interested in figuring out why he was so uncomfortable with it - and then absolutely fucking nailing him with a mini-lecture of her own. If he was going to call them on their bullshit at every opportunity, she was damn well going to return the favour.

This time, halfway through eating, it was Shikamaru to cross the barrier first. “So, Sensei,” he began, eyeing his own chopsticks for a moment. Mitskuni focused on him, humming an acknowledgement and chewing on his lip ring once more. Ino was absolutely certain that it was an anxiety behaviour. “We’re fairly closely acquainted by now. Right?” Five weeks of spending almost every day together had Ino silently agreeing.

“I suppose so.”

Shikamaru pointed at Mitskuni’s left hand. “How do you work seals missing a finger?” Ino and Chōji choked on their food. What the hell kind of insensitive question…?  _ Are you fucking serious, Shikamaru? _ If he copped them all extra work this afternoon, Ino was going to kill him.

Frowning distantly, Mitskuni-sensei studied his hands. Then he hummed again, and shrugged. “I dunno.” Ino was pretty sure she could  _ hear _ the startled  **thunk** of Shikamaru’s thoughts. “I lost it when I was a kid, before I came here. Never done them any other way.”

For a long minute, Shikamaru just stared at their sensei. Mitskuni stared right back. Finally, all at once, Shikamaru cracked a grin and started laughing.  _ Thank the gods. _ Ino relaxed, and then felt the tension in her chest morph into curiosity, even as Chōji breathed out a relieved sigh at her side.

“So you’re not from Konoha?” Ino asked, leaning her elbow on their table. Mitskuni-sensei had been fairly forthcoming in his responses before now, but they were short and he wasn’t afraid of simply telling them  _ no. _

Mitskuni considered her, before humming and setting down his plate to fold his hands in his lap. “No, I’m not. Not originally, anyway. You’ll note a distinct lack of an Okita bloodline or any previous exposure to my laser techniques.” There was almost a laugh in his voice as he said it, but Ino exchanged a disturbed glance with Shikamaru all the same. Their sensei’s eyes had never looked so dark. “I was brought here when I was… very young.” Which was saying something; Mitskuni-sensei was one of the youngest jōnin in Konoha.

Considering whether or not to push the matter when it was clearly one of seriousness despite the way Mitskuni smiled at them as he spoke, Ino held her tongue and shoved a too-big bite into her mouth. Shikamaru held a similar silence, the gears in his head visibly spinning.

“What happened?”

Ino groaned internally. She loved Chōji, really she did, but the big idiot had absolutely zero social grace.

It took long enough for Mitskuni to respond that she figured he was going to tell them to fuck off - in more polite terms, probably - but finally he sat back in his seat and sighed. Despite herself, Ino was instantly focused on him. She wouldn’t have asked, but she was just as curious to know the answer.

“The Third Shinobi War happened.” Still soft. Still with that almost-not-quite smile at the corner of his mouth. But there was a shadow in his eyes that was utterly disturbing. It was a shadow that Ino had seen many times in the adult shinobi, one she didn’t understand - and every time she saw it, she became more certain that she never wanted to. “I was the only survivor.” Even softer. Then, suddenly, Mitskuni flashed a proper smile and shook his head. “It was lucky that Yunosuke-san found me. Been a Konoha-nin ever since.”

The subject blatantly closed, even Chōji had the wherewithal to look sheepish as he dropped his gaze back to his food. “I’m sorry, Sensei,” he murmured, before focusing on eating. Ino sighed quietly, but leaned off to the side and towards Shikamaru. He mirrored her, observed closely by their sensei, but not commented on.

“Do you know who Yunosuke is?” she whispered, although it was less a real question and more a tacit request for information. Shikamaru was a lazy bastard and probably hadn’t ever taken seriously the limited files available on Konoha’s official record of active shinobi, but there was only so much kosher information Ino could absorb before she got bored. Inoichi’s classified stuff made for  _ far _ more interesting reading anyway, on the occasion she managed to get hold of it.

But it was worth a shot. Sometimes Shikamaru surprised her.

He gave a half shrug. “Retired? Sounds vaguely familiar. What do I care? Find out yourself; information is  _ your _ specialty, not mine.” The swat only missed him by a hair’s breadth as he jerked back upright into his seat. Scowling at him, Ino settled back into her own properly. Chōji was glancing between them curiously, but he didn’t say anything. They’d tell him later anyway. There were other bonuses to growing up with her teammates practically as brothers, and a certain level of silent communication was one of them.

Several minutes of awkward silence went by before Mitskuni-sensei finally broke it. “Alright, finish up. We’re heading back soon.” Chōji started eating faster. “I’ll give you guys half an hour to try and sort out an actual plan of attack, and then you can try to catch me again.”

Frustration sparked against a rising competitiveness in Ino’s chest, and she quickly finished off her meal too. Friday mornings had proven to be a continuous clusterfuck - thrown straight into chasing Mitskuni-sensei down without the chance to properly plan, always in a new location, and he took every chance to ruin any real attempt at communication between them while they worked. It wasn’t a surprise that he could manage them so easily - they were fresh genin, and he was a jōnin - but it was really fucking annoying.

Afternoons were easier. He gave them time to plan, and let Ino and Shikamaru duke it out for the right to command their efforts. Ino’s ears burned at the thought; they’d nearly managed it last week, right before she and Shikamaru had confused Chōji with conflicting orders and fucked it up at the last second. Maybe today, she’d just let Shikamaru have it. As long as he didn’t fight her on it next week, of course.

This week, they were going to fucking catch Mitskuni-sensei if it killed her. It was probably going to kill her pride, at least. But afternoons were easier, even if she knew that she wouldn’t always get the chance to plan a damn thing in the real world. That was why the mornings were  _ important, _ even if she hated the constant failure.

“Alright,” Shikamaru rumbled, and Ino swallowed the noise of premature triumph. She knew the look as he set down his chopsticks and pushed his plate away slightly.

He already had a plan.

* * *

“Not like that.”

Itachi-sensei’s voice cut clean through the whole training session, and Neji swallowed the grunt of irritation as they all came to a standstill. Shino went almost perfectly motionless, his swarm of kikaichū going silent with him, while Ren simply relaxed their stance and stood at ease. Neji let his chakra settle back into normal circulation.

Stepping in, Itachi-sensei walked right up to Ren and then lifted his own hands. “You’re too indecisive. Show me.” With a nervous glance towards Neji (and what the hell was that all about, that they kept looking to Neji for some sort of ridiculous reassurance), Ren moved back into their combat stance. Almost immediately, Itachi-sensei gave them a slight push, and they scrambled to regain their balance. “If you stand stiffly, but you’re still trying to dodge, you’ll break the moment you’re pressured.” Turning, Itachi-sensei gestured for Neji to come over. He withheld the grimace and obeyed; whatever else he might think about his sensei, Neji couldn’t deny his sheer skill. Even if he was only five years Neji’s senior. “Watch carefully how Neji moves, particularly his footwork. You too, Shino.”

Which was largely unnecessary - unlike Ren, Shino had the benefit of a proper clan upbringing and something that actually resembled an understanding of ninja abilities - but as an Aburame, Shino’s weakest skill was taijutsu. Without further prompting, Neji lifted his hands and lunged at Itachi-sensei.

In one fluid motion, Itachi-sensei turned out of the way of Neji’s strike and then, as Neji went past him, already spinning on his heel, put a hand against his back and pushed. If Neji locked up to resist the motion, he’d stick and then stumble against the ground. The earth was an unyielding creature, and to fight it was hopeless self-destruction. Instead, Neji let one knee buckle and rolled into the momentum, trying to put distance between himself and Itachi-sensei even as he sprung back to his feet.

It was, as it always was, a futile endeavour but even as formidable as a Hyuuga was in close combat, Neji knew better than to play with Itachi-sensei. A year of one-on-one training had turned out to be the best thing that he could have hoped for, even if he’d initially been stupid enough to see it as some sort of punishment.

This, right here, having to give up opportunities for his own advancement to demonstrate fucking basics to the two new genin, was the real punishment.

Itachi-sensei was on him in half a second, feinting a strike to his shoulder while moving to sweep Neji’s feet out from under him. All thought split between conflicting reflexes. Neji knew from experience that when Itachi-sensei feinted, it wasn’t always a bluff, and he found himself trying to twist out of the way even as he forced chakra through his feet to jump back. The result let him dodge, at least, but then he had to spin sideways midair; completely vulnerable to attack. He could move with chakra expulsions, of course - and much swifter and more accurately than any non-Hyuuga, Itachi-sensei included - but it wouldn’t be enough to save him from attack.

“Ren! Wall, now.” A rough command, spat through his teeth even as Neji gathered chakra in his eyes and activated his Byakugan. Pale blue grew to a thick bubble in each of Itachi-sensei’s eyes as soon as he did, overlaid by the real visual of black irises turning crimson, signalling the ignition of Sharingan in response.

Ren stumbled through the short set of seals and slammed their hands into the ground. “Earth Release: Rock Shield,” they blurted out, the activation phrase locking the necessary chakra pattern and releasing the jutsu. So simple a jutsu to still need the activation phrase spoken  _ aloud. _ Neji had serious reservations about the efficacy of civilian-born shinobi; but that was a thought for another time. Perhaps he should be more impressed that after only three months with a real sensei, Ren had already gotten fairly reliable at the new jutsu.

It was a real boon right now, anyway, as Neji’s feet touched the impromptu wall and stuck, a thin layer of chakra held at his feet. He didn’t get another moment to think, instead widening his stance and grabbing a kunai out of his holster. The sharp  _ clang _ of a kunai-on-kunai impact rang out and Neji let his knees bend to absorb it, meeting Itachi-sensei’s gaze for a brief moment.

Then he shoved back, throwing Itachi-sensei much further away than if he’d simply let gravity do its work on its own. For good measure, he threw the kunai after his sensei, but it was carelessly deflected before Itachi-sensei settled and sheathed his own.

Disappointment stung sharp and fast, and Neji grit his teeth before dropping back to the ground himself. Ren let out a relieved sigh as he did and let the jutsu drop, rolling their shoulders. Going to collect his kunai, Neji nevertheless tilted his head to listen to the rest of their conversation.

“Did you see how Neji moved?” Itachi-sensei asked Ren, and Ren offered a noise of hesitant affirmation. “That is how I want you to move too.”

Ren took a breath, paused, and then shot Neji a helpless look.  _ Oh, for fuck’s— _ Since when was he the official Itachi-sensei translator? But it would only take longer if he refused, so he walked over and folded his arms, glaring at them. Itachi-sensei was frowning to himself. “You have to pick a response and stick to it. You’re either going to dodge a hit, or weather it. Commit, or you’ll fail in both of them.”

_ Goddamn it. _ Neji had only had to tolerate his teammates for three months so far (and gods, it was going to be a fucking eternity before they were all chūnin), but he was already sick of rephrasing the most basic of Itachi-sensei’s lessons into something Ren could understand. Oh, he had to do it for Shino as well, but far less often - and Shino didn’t need every little thing explained to him like Ren did.

The biggest flaw Itachi-sensei had as a teacher, as far as Neji was concerned, was that he was just so damn fucking  _ talented. _ Everything about being a shinobi came to Itachi-sensei as easily as breathing; almost everything he’d ever learned he had picked up after one demonstration or explanation, or just damn well figured it out himself. The problem with being such a prodigious student was that he had absolutely no fucking idea how to actually  _ explain _ anything as a teacher. It all just came naturally to him. Not to mention all the little things that he’d probably never even thought about.

It hadn’t really posed that much of an obstacle, though, when it had just been the two of them. Neji was already good at learning from observation, and while Itachi-sensei sucked at explaining the nuances of anything - ever - he was a master of it all, so he could just show Neji how to do it and get on with the lesson.

_ Well, even I’ll admit that the Byakugan is almost cheating, _ Neji thought quietly, letting the dōjutsu go as he did.

But now that they had these two fresh idiots to deal with, it was quickly becoming apparent just how glaring a flaw it really was. Shino was good at observation himself, but he couldn’t see the details without having them pointed out, and he didn’t have the ability to observe Itachi-sensei’s chakra flow to better understand. And Ren was absolutely fucking hopeless at it; they needed  _ everything _ explained in excruciating detail before they got it. Their only saving grace was that once they did understand something, they didn’t forget it.

And watching them struggle with it wouldn’t get anyone anywhere, and Neji would only lose out on even more time getting proper training himself, so as much as he resented it he took his place at Itachi-sensei’s side and translated.

Ren frowned. “I’m… not sure I understand.”

This time, Neji let the irritated sound be vocalised. “Watch me again, and  _ pay attention _ this time.” He turned to Itachi-sensei and pretended not to see the proud glint in once-again black eyes. “Would you please try to strike me, Itachi-sensei?”

No matter his sensei’s flaws, Neji knew far, far better than to disrespect him. There was a  _ reason _ that Itachi-sensei was a jōnin with genin of his own at only five years Neji’s elder, after all.

After a moment, Itachi-sensei obliged him and lashed out with a whip-quick open handed hit. Loose on his feet, Neji spun sideways to avoid it and simultaneously stepped forward slightly, returning with a strike of his own. A few centimetres away from landing it, Neji held his hand in the air to show Ren where he would have hit. Or, at least where he would have hit if Itachi-sensei had let him. He had absolutely no doubts that the Uchiha could have dodged or countered with ease if he’d wanted to.

“Did you see how I dodged?” Ren bit their lip, and Neji grumbled and relaxed his stance. “How was I standing beforehand? How was I standing afterwards? You need to pay attention to how I’m holding myself, where my centre of gravity is. Not just for yourself - if you know what to look for, you’ll be able to tell how an opponent is going to react to attack.”

For a few moments, Ren just studied him with a deep frown. Then, they tilted their head. “I think I get it.”  _ Thank the gods. _ “So you were dodging. Can you show me tanking the hit?”

Well, Neji had to give them this, at least: Ren wasn’t shy about asking for what they thought would help. With a nod, Neji turned back to Itachi-sensei and set his stance wider again. After a moment and shaking himself out, Neji squared his shoulders and indicated he was ready.

This time, Itachi-sensei threw a proper punch. One hand braced against the back of the other, Neji caught the fist flat in his palm. He swayed slightly, let his knees bend again to absorb the movement, and stayed planted right where he was. Half a second of motionlessness, and then Itachi-sensei stepped back and settled.

Understanding lit in Ren’s sapphire eyes. “Okay, okay. I think I get it. Can we try, Neji-senpai?”

Seriously?

But there was nothing for it, Itachi-sensei flashing him a quiet smile before turning away to Shino. Sighing, Neji set his stance and resigned himself to teaching Ren literally the most basic thing about taijutsu. What the hell had the Academy been for if they hadn’t already learnt something this straightforward?  _ I didn’t sign up to be a secondary sensei, _ grumbled silently while he eyed Ren’s new stance and scowled.

Fuck it. Maybe he’d get extra credit or something. How would that even work?  _ Whatever. _ He never thought he’d  _ miss _ the terrifying intensity of having Itachi-sensei scrutinise and pick apart his every move - and damn it, but the man didn’t miss a single thing - and yet here he was, quietly wishing that Shino and Ren would just go the fuck away.

It wouldn’t happen. Itachi-sensei wouldn’t have sent them back to the Academy even if it had been warranted (and for all that Neji hated how far behind him they were, doing so wasn’t warranted). Whilst it was standard practice for any graduating genin leftover from forming the three-man teams to be assigned to a jōnin in solo or duo groups until the empty slots could be filled by the following year’s graduates,  _ leaving _ him in solo tutelage was so far outside standard that Neji hadn’t even considered it a viable possibility. He’d been destined to end up with weak teammates.

In the end, it was probably part of fate’s cruel joke that he’d ended up helping to teach them. Some sort of karmic balance that dictated he pay for the intensive personal training from one of the most gifted jōnin ever to grace Konoha by being forced, in turn, to teach what he’d learned.

“Start by hitting me. Get a feel for how it looks and feels like to take the hit. Then we’ll see if you can stop me from knocking you over.” Petty, perhaps, but a strictly necessary part of training, as Ren squared their shoulders and threw a punch with all the strength they could muster. It was no small amount of force - Ren was going to be a defensive powerhouse when they got older and more skilled ( **if** they ever got more skilled), and while they lacked speed and agility, they had raw strength in spades - but Neji absorbed it and didn’t move. “Again.”

By the time Ren indicated they thought they understood and asked Neji to hit them, it was almost enjoyable. Watching them stagger or stumble. A juvenile revenge, but satisfying all the same.

Inexplicably, when they managed to properly block and throw back Neji’s strike, it was somehow even better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Important Bits:  
> | HAHHAA so I am in lockdown like everyone else, but guess what? My place of study - despite the fact I study applied science and we need a fucking lab to do all the **very heavily practical** work - is continuing on with online teaching so I have precisely no less work to do than I did before. Rip my writing spree.  
> | Also, I may or may not be working on a mini side project. WHOOPS.  
> | The Uchihas are basically walking MacGuffins, so we will allow them to **talk like this** when they're angry. Don't even worry about it. >_>  
> | Hinata - bless her soul - is also a terribly unreliable narrator. We're gonna give these kunoichi a fucking confidence-boost, damn it.  
> | Also, the only-nine-students-become-genin thing. I never actually realised that was something Kishimoto canonically put in place - mostly because it makes no fucking sense. So yeah, we’re not doing that. Stupid artificial shinobi scarcity when they’re at fucking war half the time stupid bullshit… **[continued muttering]**  
>  | Neji is a son of a bitch to write. Mainly because he insists on attaching Itachi’s honourific in every single fucking instance of his name, unlike all the other more reasonable people. Even Hinata isn’t that stiff. Damn it, Neji.  
> | Yes, Ren's pronouns are they/them.  
> | Are y’all ready to actually start some real plot in the next chapter? Hell yeah. Five and a half chapters of setup is totally fine at ten thousand words a chapter. **[shifty eyes]**
> 
> Next chapter due: **16th April 2020**
> 
> **  
> Bonus Content Alert:  
> **  
>  _Kakashi-sensei had them wait outside, when they went to hand in their completed D-rank. It didn't take as long as Hinata had expected. Just long enough for Sakura to frown and glance over at them. "I thought that the Hokage was supposed to give us our first mission? Traditionally, I mean."  
>  Sasuke exchanged a confused look with Hinata before settling his gaze on Sakura. "It's just a D-rank. She'll give us our first out-of-village mission." As if it should be obvious - but... well, it should have been. Everyone knew that Tsunade-sama took the time to personally assign a genin's first mission outside of Konoha. It was nice, that tradition. Kind, a reassurance that they all mattered to her, in some small way. Why would Sakura want that wasted on a **D-rank?**  
>  A breath to add something, but Kakashi-sensei was back outside before she could. Three envelopes were distributed between them.  
> Payment.  
> Something light raced out along Hinata's skin, like sparks. Like she was standing too close to a fire, but not quite close enough to catch alight. **Payment.** Maybe Sakura wasn't so far off by thinking about their first D-rank as something special. Hinata had never gotten paid for anything, before. She'd never **earned** it. There was something... exhilarating about it.  
> "1,700 ryo?" came Sasuke's voice at her side. Hinata jolted out of her own thoughts and blinked at him; he had his envelope open, and had evidently already counted the bills. "That's a three-way split. There's four of us."  
> Sakura tilted her head.  
> Quirking his eyebrow, Kakashi let out a soft snort. "I didn't do a damn thing to help you with your mission. Why should I get paid for it?"_


	7. Leaving the Village, After All, is a Right of Passage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time advances, the puzzle starts to fit together, and Sakura meets her first enemy for the second time.

The caves were just as quiet as always, but their familiarity didn’t stop him from pausing by the clusters of glowing lichen and breathing in the soft, damp smell of them. Roots wound through the black rock like winding ivy, weaving amongst the bioluminescent plants and water dripping down the walls. The network was so vast that at this point, Asuma was completely convinced that the cave system would simply collapse without them.

Trailing his fingers through the wet lines, Asuma sighed to himself and got moving again. It was peaceful down here, serene and beautiful and secluded. He’d lost count of how many times he’d wandered through the roots of the Greatree, lost and alone. So many times.  _ Too many times. _

But it wasn’t a purposeless trip that brought him there this morning, heading deeper and deeper while the crashing thunder of the waterfall faded to silence behind him. Technically speaking, Asuma still had several days left in which to complete his mission, but it had only been a B-rank. Even if he only held a chūnin ranking himself, he had the skills and experience of a jōnin behind him - and he wasn’t about to hold back just because he wasn’t fully trusted yet.

It was… just too fucking hard to blame the village leaders for holding his jōnin application hostage, or even to be angry about it. After everything that had happened - after what had even  _ brought _ him here in the first place - there was nothing to be done about it.

If their positions had been reversed, Asuma wouldn’t have trusted himself either.

The climb became harder as the caves began sloping upwards, taking Asuma’s focus and then his hands as the slippery surface turned jagged and dangerous. By the time it was almost vertical, Asuma had chakra coating both his hands and his feet despite the array of massive roots available to manually climb. He’d tried it before, and nearly cracked his skull open when he’d lost his grip and fallen. The supposedly easy hand- and footholds offered by the Greatree’s roots were a blatant deception.

Patches of daylight shone through as the first indication he was close, followed immediately by the thickening of the plantlife and a gradual change from lichen and fungi to leafier varieties and vines. Eventually, Asuma broke through into an island crawling with centuries-old roots and moss, completely overtaken by a single tree: the Greatree. A centrepiece for the village, the Greatree was bigger around than most buildings and twice as tall besides, boughs and evergreen leaves spreading in a vast canopy that let through dappled sunlight and the constant chiming  _ drip _ of water puddles collected every rainfall.

Climbing out of the half-hidden gap in the writhing roots, Asuma looked out across the lake and let himself pause to simply admire it. The entirety of the lake and quite a significant margin of the village itself - built in a huge ring around the Greatlake - was covered by the Greatree, but the further out one went from the middle of the village, the more trees began to spring up. None were even close to as big as the Greatree, but their branches reached high enough that no patches of open sky were visible through the emerald ceiling.

Built on the ground, densely at first and then getting more and more scattered between the trees out to the village walls, were bustling commerce districts and civilian housing, all the way back to the cliff and waterfall that served as the southern border until they met with the huge building that served as the central shinobi headquarters, built around several of the biggest non-Great trees. Above their heads, connected by woven vines and narrow bridges without safety rails and built into the tops of the trees themselves, were a sprawling series of treehouses that offered shinobi housing and training areas.

For a moment, Asuma stood utterly motionless and observed.

Takigakure was beautiful, after all.

Then, adjusting the heavy sack slung over his shoulder, he stepped out onto the Greatlake and began walking across the water, sighing to himself. With any luck, school would still be in session and he wouldn’t run the risk of meeting anyone on his way to give his mission report. The sooner he handed this in and got to bathe, the better. Unbidden, Asuma rubbed his hands down the lightweight grey pants that made up Taki-nin uniform. Dried blood still lined his fingernails.

Luck, it turned out, was not on his side today. Making his way through the commercial district revealed several pairs consisting of Taki jōnin - clearly marked by the jōnin sashes draped from shoulder to hip - and pre-genin students.

_ Fuck. _

It just had to be a demonstration day  _ today _ of all days. He definitely should have taken the extra time to relax on his way home. With this luck, he was pretty much guaranteed to get caught by—

“Uncle!” came the call, only a second before a ball of brown hair and blue scarf barrelled into him. Arms went tight around Asuma’s waist, delighted laughter rising up with the pressure. “You’re back!”

Asuma sighed, but there was a faint smile when he looked down and patted his nephew’s head. “Hey, kiddo. You been good?”

“Of course.” Pouted, but he’d have said that no matter what the truth was.

Looking up, Asuma met the warm gaze of the jōnin who’d been assigned as escort. “Has he really behaved himself, Luxanna-san?” She laughed, blue eyes sparkling, and waved off the question.

“No worse than usual, anyway.” Spoken over the boy’s protest, before reaching out to grasp his shoulder and pull him back. “Come on, Kota. You’ll have all evening to catch up with Asuma-kun.” A sassy bitch, as always, but Asuma smirked at her all the same. He was rather fond of Luxanna, despite the fact he knew she had standing orders to keep an eye on him whenever possible. Kota was very young to already have his jōnin-sensei lined up - he wouldn’t graduate to genin status for another three years - but sometimes that was just how it went in Takigakure.

Even after five years, Asuma wasn’t fully adjusted to the way things were done here, but he found it… refreshing. It was so enormously different to how things were run in Konoha, and that…

That was good.

Jōnin here were given far more choice in who they taught, were far more involved in the general life of their genin. The village’s overall small size combined with the relative abundance of jōnin level shinobi meant that, most of the time, genin training happened on a one-on-one basis. Though Kota was still quite young, it wasn’t actually unusual for a pre-genin to know who would teach them before they graduated, and for that jōnin to become involved with their learning and wellbeing before they even achieved genin ranking.

It ‘helped’, Asuma supposed, that Kota was essentially Taki’s hostage to ensure his own loyalty. Hard to see fault with the logic - it was incredibly rare for a shinobi to fully defect from one village to another - but it had taken him quite some time to adjust to Luxanna’s presence. These days, though… Well, she hadn’t been ordered to stake a claim on Kota as her future genin. Despite their rocky introduction, Asuma was quite fond of the woman.

The flick to her shoulder got a stuck-out tongue in return. “I’ll see you both for dinner, then?” Asuma asked, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah!” Kota exclaimed before Luxanna could say anything. “It’ll be something good, right?” Bright eyes, the exact same shade of grey as his mother’s; Asuma shook his head and flicked him too.

“Depends on if you behave yourself. Now go on, I know you’re supposed to be doing something productive rather than bugging me.” It got a pout, but Kota was off again in moments, Luxanna trailing after him with a lazy goodbye over her shoulder.

Once they were out of sight, Asuma finally took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. His other hand was tight on the strap of his bag. How in the hell did Kota  _ always _ find him, every single dang time he returned to Taki? He wanted to blame Luxanna, if he was honest. He never bothered to conceal his chakra signature on return to the village - the waterfall guards were  _ infinitely _ easier to deal with if they knew who was coming right off the bat - and he wouldn’t put it past her to deliberately track him down whenever she sensed him coming.

The only problem was figuring out how she  _ always knew _ to be on the lookout for him. If he hadn’t known any better, he’d have said she’d been tracking him for the last five years, but— Well… actually, he wasn’t sure he  _ did _ know better. Her initial assignment had been to ensure Asuma wasn’t a spy, after all.

A deep sigh, and he started walking again. Maybe it didn’t actually matter. He wasn’t a spy, and even if he was still proving it, Luxanna knew that by now.

He’d never go back to Konoha. It deserved to burn.

The rest of the walk back to the shinobi headquarters was taken slowly, quietly ruminating. No need to hurry when he’d already been caught. The anger was an old feeling, a simmering familiarity that he’d borne for so long it was almost a friend; it tasted like acid and blood at the back of his throat, a sharp reassurance that  _ he _ was still alive. The hand not clutching the rope keeping the (too-heavy) sack on his shoulder dipped. Fingertips brushed the sash he still wore underneath the soft grey shirt.

_ Fire, _ inscribed on the red fabric in jet black thread. Asuma clenched his hand around the kanji. It probably didn’t help him any, that he kept wearing the damn thing despite abandoning the Land of Fire and everything in it.

“Nice work, Asuma.” Muttered to himself, running a hand back through his hair. Even if just for Kota’s sake, he needed to get rid of the damn thing. He’d known since  _ arriving _ that he needed to get rid of the visible bond to his homeland. Even if  _ arriving _ was too strong a word for what had really happened.

Ambushed, with a four year old crying in his arms. He’d been fleeing, as fast as he could, with blood and death chasing his every step.

How ironic, that Takigakure was the safest place Kota had ever been.

His wandering thoughts saw him through the rest of his walk, but he paused when he found himself outside central shinobi operations. Tipped his head up and let out a sigh of defeat, before shifting the sack so it was at his side instead of his back, leaned against the outer wall, and reached into his kunai holster to bring out a pack of cigarettes. One more sigh before flashing a single handsign and lighting a narrow blue flame at the end of his index finger.

Misani was going to kill him, but it was worth it. Heat and tension filled his chest as he breathed in the smoke, and after a moment relaxation followed.  _ Goddamn it. _ At least it was a peaceful day in terms of official work; not a single other ninja came or went while Asuma slowly smoked his way through the one cigarette he'd allow himself (Misani's scolding voice rang in his head).

Eventually, even his escapism had to end, of course. Once the cigarette had burned down to a stub, Asuma relit the simple fire release and turned it to ash. Another sigh, and then he hefted the sack and walked in.

“I was wondering how long you were going to lurk out there,” came the smiled greeting, and Asuma looked up into inky eyes. “Welcome back, Asuma.” The genuine warmth in Shibuki’s face was almost forceful, the tension in Asuma’s shoulders easing against his will. “I take it your mission was successful?”

The sack made a muted  **thud** as Asuma dropped it on Shibuki’s table. The other two chūnin quietly relaxing at the mission desks looked over, and then narrowed their eyes. Asuma tried to ignore them. “Of course.” A glance out of the corner of his eye, catching Lika’s gaze. He dropped it. “The road out of Estaria should be safe.” He paused, and then looked down at the sack. The outer layer had drooped down at gravity’s behest, and a faint outline of what lay within was now visible.

Asuma’s stomach turned over. Not that he felt guilty, or even remotely disgusted, at what the mission had called for - but that he didn’t.

Humming, Shibuki eyed the sack and then looked away, wrinkling his nose slightly. “... I’m sorry you had to do that.”

“Don’t.” Gruff. Asuma didn’t want any sympathy from the village’s leader, and nor did he deserve any. “I chose this. Quicker and easier to kill ‘em. Besides, they were beyond reason.” Shibuki bit his lip, looking back at Asuma while he considered that. Fingers wound uneasily in long brown hair; it was an expected reaction. Shibuki wasn’t fond of murder when it  _ was _ necessary. If Asuma had tried harder - stuck around longer - there was undoubtedly a less violent solution he could have come to. Even if it had involved threats.

_ Well. _ It wasn’t as if he hadn’t made his threats initially. Asuma hadn’t made empty ones in a long time.

Shibuki sighed softly. “Well… at least you completed it.” Maybe the safety of Estaria’s main export route was worth the blood on his hands. “I’ll need a proper mission report by tomorrow, Asuma.” A visible swallow, before getting to his feet and reluctantly taking the strap of the sack. “... Who was this?”

“Leader of a small bandit raid.” A moment of silence. “They won’t bother anyone else.”

Whether Asuma had killed them or simply frightened them off seemed to be something that Shibuki didn’t want to know; he grimaced, picked up the sack, and slung it over his own shoulder. A hesitation, and Asuma responded in kind, pausing as he was about to turn on his heel and go home. “... Shibuki-sama?” he tried when no words were immediately forthcoming. A strange shadow passed through the Taki leader’s eyes.

“Asuma… I’ve been reviewing your application for jōnin.” Ice shivered out under Asuma’s skin like hoarfrost. Shibuki tacitly kept quiet about that, about how Asuma was still proving himself to Takigakure’s shinobi forces. If he was bringing it up…

“And?”

Shibuki offered a pained smile. “I don’t believe you have any ill intent towards us, Asuma. What happened was…” He stopped. Snapped his teeth together and shook his head, fingers tightening on the strap over his shoulder. “Anyway, Taki is your home now. If you’d been born here, you would have been a jōnin years ago.” Hope surged out in the wake of the cold, and Asuma tried to stamp down on it. If he was straight up going to be promoted, Shibuki would have outright said that.

“It’s fine,” Asuma said instead. A half-shrug, more for his own benefit than Shibuki’s. “My circumstance is hardly… traditional.”

At that, Shibuki shook his head, and a far more genuine smile spread across his face. “I trust you. My advisors… just need a little demonstration.” Guilt, for a split second. Asuma narrowed his eyes. “I am sorry. I tried to talk them out of it, but they insisted on a… test, I suppose, before they’ll sign off on your promotion.”

Folding his arms, Asuma considered the young leader. To be honest, it was wise of him to listen to his advisors, instead of railroading Taki with his own agenda. “What kind of test?” Whatever it was, Asuma had no doubt he could do it. Worth the trial, for the freedom of S-rank missions.

Maybe he’d go and pick out a genin for himself from Kota’s class. It could be… good.

“As I’m sure you know, Konoha is hosting a Chūnin Exams later this year.” Very soft. Asuma felt himself go stiff, even as his thoughts raced ahead into a jumbled mass of austere panic. “Taki is intending to send a team of genin and their senseis to compete.” Intuition struck first, and Asuma’s hands clenched tight at his sides, nails digging into his palms.  _ No. _ “We would like to formally offer you an A-rank mission as an escort for the Chūnin Exam party.”

Silence, for a moment. Lika and Rinnea - at the other two desks, completely unoccupied - were staring at their own hands, carefully avoiding Asuma’s glance. He didn’t really blame them.  _ They want to send me back to Konoha. _ They wanted to test his  _ loyalty. _ To see if he had it within him to resist whatever few friends he might have left in his homeland.

If, indeed, he had any at all.

To force him to cut those ties if he found them.

Shibuki was watching, carefully, as if expecting rebuttal. Outrage, anxiety, sorrow,  _ anything. _ He wouldn’t find it. Asuma could feel his fingernails in his palms, feel the slow thunder of his heartbeat as the prospect registered and settled in his mind. Go back to Konoha. Face it again - not as a man at home, an ally, but as a Taki-nin. As an outsider.

Heartbeat, heavy and slow, like breathing in boiling air. For a moment, Asuma’s whole body rumbled with it, like the force of his own pulse would be enough to send him tumbling from his feet, like flinching from his own existence.

_ Konoha. _

“Okay.”

He heard it as if from someone else, and thought dissipated into an echo.  _ Okay. _ Back to Konoha - but not back home.

So… okay. He could do that. To prove to Shibuki’s advisors what their leader already believed - that Asuma was truly theirs, was truly now a shinobi of Takigakure, and no longer Konohagakure.

“Okay?”

Yes.

“Okay.”

So he’d go to Konoha, and then afterwards he’d come back home.

* * *

Fourteen weeks of training under Kakashi-sensei, and Sasuke was starting to feel like their new normal wasn’t so bad.

Hinata was surprisingly nervous - about… pretty much everything - for a ninja born to a clan of such prestige and power as the Hyuugas. Especially for one born to the clan  _ Head. _ While it made no sense to Sasuke, he’d come to respect her abilities in spite of her dismal opinion of them. Their morning spars had become so engaging that Sakura usually showed up early enough to witness them, now, and Sasuke’s winning streak was short-lived at best. Hinata gave as good as she got, and had learned his patterns so surely that he was no longer using them, and instead trying to make it all up as he went. It had worked, for a while; Hinata was quick, and though she hadn’t used Jūken on him since that first fight, he knew only too well that if she ever did their fight would be over in seconds, and not in his favour.

For her part, Sakura was… closer to normal, these days. She hadn’t gone back to how she was before, but the jagged, awkward distance that had overtaken her was finally easing. The snack bag that she brought with her to training every day helped with that, though the admission was somewhat reluctant. Not in the least because once they’d started doing regular D-ranks and earning their own income, the quality of said snacks had gone up drastically. In the last couple of weeks, she’d started to participate in their morning spars; Kakashi’s non-stop strength training was paying dividends. Sakura had thrown Sasuke clean across the sparring ring the last time they’d stepped in together. Even as much as she’d changed all of a sudden… Sasuke was starting to think that he could be friends with this different Sakura, too.

He’d stopped expecting Kakashi-sensei to be less of an asshole after the fifth week, when Sasuke had gotten good with his shuriken. Instead of praise, Kakashi had laughed at him and told him to hit an absurd fucking target on the other side of the training field. He hadn’t been able to, of course, no matter how much raw chakra he poured into each shuriken or how strongly they cracked with lightning when he threw them. When, after two days of exhausting himself trying, he’d given in and just asked Kakashi what the point was. His sensei had laughed at him. A contemptuous laugh; a cold one.  _ “Utilise the resources you have to figure it out, or you’ll just keep failing.” _ And Sasuke wasn’t sure why his sensei didn’t apparently count as a resource, but he’d taken the hint. Sakura had been able to tell him, the very next day, when he’d asked.

_ “Raw power won’t make them fly farther. Chakra control, being careful about your application and release through the metal, will give you far more control over them.” _

Resources, and figuring out their lessons on their own. Kakashi-sensei was an asshole, without mitigation, but the longer Sasuke spent with him the more he appreciated it. It was infuriating and frustrating at every turn, but he was never going to forget those lessons once he got them. Whether Kakashi just didn’t know what he was doing, or he took some sort of pleasure from watching them squirm, Sasuke was coming to quite like his capricious, spiteful nature.

Whenever Kakashi-sensei  _ did _ offer praise, it was utterly sincere. It was  _ earned. _

So today, while Hinata bade them a smiling goodbye and Sasuke waited for Sakura to finish, he felt fantastic. They’d completed the day’s D-rank so quickly that Kakashi had breaked for lunch earlier than usual and then filled their afternoon with a three-man hunt that had led them all the way across Konoha and across the border wall, out into the immediately surrounding forest, and then back across to the top of the Hokage monument. When they’d caught him - cornered him - it had almost been nightfall, and he’d mocked them for being so slow.

It had made the congratulations that followed all the sweeter.

And now, Sakura was borrowing one of Kakashi’s reluctantly summoned dogs to take a message to her parents. Only fair, to inform them that she wouldn’t be home for dinner, Sasuke supposed. Almost strange, to be taking her back to the Uchiha compound for a meal again, as if nothing had changed now they were genin.

More and more, Sasuke was starting to think that maybe, in the grand scheme, nothing really had. For all the strange distance in her eyes, for all that she sometimes went still and cold and absent, thinking about whatever it was that made her face go pale and her hands clench, she was still… mostly herself. Dedicated to becoming a shinobi in a way that she’d never been before.

Maybe it was just… more real, now. Maybe she really meant it, when she said she chose to become a ninja because she couldn’t imagine anything else. People changed, when they grew.

Besides, Itachi and their mother had started asking about her prolonged absence. It was getting annoying.

The walk back went surprisingly smoothly. They’d always had a degree of ease about their conversation, but now there was something simple about it. That Sakura seemed to actually understand when Sasuke talked about the finer points of technique, or discussing the things Itachi had said during their last (and increasingly rare) training session together. When she talked about theory in return, Sasuke found himself actually understanding what she was saying, or having enough background knowledge to ask the right questions so he would.

It was nice, walking home with Sakura at his side, talking like they used to. The glances were still there, the sad distance in her eyes that he couldn’t figure out and that Sakura brushed off every time he asked, but even then she smiled and laughed and it felt like they were just being friends again.

And Mikoto was delighted, when they got home and Sasuke called out from the front door. “Home, Mum! It’s cool if Sakura’s here for dinner, right?” Sakura had paused at the threshold, but when Mikoto came through to greet her, green eyes went wide and shining, and then she broke into a blinding smile.

“Hi, Uchiha-san.” Shy, almost. Like herself.

Mikoto came over, ruffling Sasuke’s hair as she passed - earning a swat and a grumble, although Sasuke knew better than to actually argue about it. “Sakura-chan! Of course, you know you’re welcome here.” Sakura looked… shocked, when Mikoto hugged her, but Sasuke just snickered and wandered through into the main living room. Even if it should concern him that Sakura had apparently forgotten how friendly Mikoto was, it was funny to watch her try and figure out how to respond.

Already home and sitting quietly, writing something out, Itachi glanced up as Sasuke came in, and offered a faint smile. “Evening, Sasuke.” Sasuke waved back, went over, and flopped down at Itachi’s side. Leant against him, forcing Itachi to put down his pen. “Is this necessary?” An irritated growl in his voice, but that smile was still in place when Sasuke glanced up at his face, so instead of getting up, Sasuke twisted in place and dropped back into Itachi’s lap.

“Yup. Kakashi-sensei kicked our asses today.” Itachi quirked an eyebrow at him. Waving a hand, Sasuke watched Sakura walk in, freeze for half a second, and then slink over to sit nearby. She kept peeking glances sideways at them; something twisted in Sasuke’s chest, a thick, heavy sensation like swallowing treacle. She wasn’t looking at  _ him; _ she was looking at Itachi. “... He had us try to corner him. It took us all day - I swear he can  _ teleport _ or something. He  **always** knew when we were coming.” Infuriating, how he’d seemed to simply vanish from all the traps Sasuke had sworn were foolproof.

Even more so, that Sakura kept smiling to herself about it, or the way she’d traced out silent thoughts in the air with her hands while considering her own strategies. Of course, it was one of hers that had finally netted them the win. Being outperformed by Sakura, even though he knew she was unthinkably clever, was… embarrassing. He was a clan-nin - an Uchiha. He should be… better. If not better than her, then better than he was.

Maybe that was unfair of him. The thought sounded suspiciously like his father’s voice.

Itachi chuckled, setting aside whatever he was writing, and tapped Sasuke right between the eyes, smiling down at him. “Even I would be hard pressed to catch Kakashi-senpai if he tried to evade me.” Warmth in Itachi’s voice, and Sasuke felt himself relax. “He was tracking your chakra signature. I can teach you to conceal it on your day off, if you would like.”

Excitement spiked at the offer, and Sasuke sat back up again, feeling the hope on his face from the inside out. “Really?” He didn’t know if it had been coincidence, or if Itachi had engineered it on purpose, but Team Seven’s days off always seemed to line up with Team Six’s. Itachi laughed again, and nodded.

“Really.”

“Um— Could I join in?” came Sakura’s tentative voice, and Itachi glanced at her. There was a moment of tense hesitation in his face - just the briefest flicker - before he smiled at her too.

“Of course, Sakura-chan.”

She didn’t smile back. Instead, she glanced away, bit her lip, and tried not to meet Sasuke’s gaze. “Actually… Itachi-san, I was hoping I could… talk to you. In private.” The brightness in Sasuke’s chest went cold and heavy. Was this the whole reason Sakura had agreed to join them for dinner in the first place? Was she, like so many others, just using him as a stepping stone to get to his brother?

Shaking himself, Sasuke moved out of the way as Itachi nodded and rose to his feet, and tried to dismiss the notion. He was being paranoid. Sakura had been his friend for a long time, and she’d never used him for Itachi’s prowess. Whatever this was… Whatever it was, it was something else.

He tried not to dwell too deeply on what it might be. On what she was so unwilling to tell him. With everything else that was different now, it was just another thing. That she’d have secrets from him.

“Sasuke, can you come help me with this please?” Cheerful but sharp, from the kitchen, and Sasuke got to his feet with another glance between his brother and his teammate, before padding off to do as Mikoto asked. Chopping vegetables wasn’t especially stimulating, and Sasuke’s focus wandered. Recent lessons echoed through his head as he strained his senses, trying to hear what Sakura might be saying to Itachi. They hadn’t gone far - if he concentrated hard enough, he could just barely pick out the murmur of their voices, but he couldn’t make out anything intelligent.

Maybe he should just leave it be. He surely shouldn’t be actively eavesdropping on his brother and his best friend. But…

What in the hell could they be talking about?

Even as guilty as it made him feel, Sasuke tilted his head and caught hold of his chakra, teasing it out into thin threads. Kakashi-sensei’s voice ran through his mind, and he followed the shape of it. Wove his chakra threads into his senses until his hearing became a delicate weave.

Voices, faintly muted, reached his ears.

_ “... sure what you mean, Sakura-chan.” _ Itachi’s voice. Low. Confused.

Sakura’s voice was fainter, even quieter, but Sasuke closed his eyes to focus and made out the words.  _ “When we first met. You must remember.” _ Ice crept down Sasuke’s spine. Why was she asking about the Konoha Massacre? She already knew everything Sasuke did.

_ “You never did tell me why you sought me out, that day.” _ What?  _ “I admit that I’ve… wondered.” _

Sasuke’s heartbeat was like someone else’s hands in his chest. What the hell did that even mean? They’d met the same night Sasuke had met her, when Sakura’s family had sheltered them from the— the fighting, as it had spilled out from their home and across all of Konoha. When he and Sakura had stood, terrified, in front of Sakura’s civilian parents, and Itachi had stood in front of them all. Guarding. Waiting.

What else could they be talking about? When  _ else _ could they have met?

There was a suspicious silence, for too many moments, before Sakura responded.  _ “... It doesn’t matter. I got… everything I needed out of it.” _ Hands clenched, and Sasuke could feel the faint tremble in them.  _ “So… You know me quite well, then?” _

Itachi hummed.  _ “I hope so.” _ Very soft.  _ “But in case I do not, and Kakashi-senpai is right, then be assured, I will do anything to protect—” _

_ “Sasuke.”  _ There was something… wrong, about the way she said his name. She sounded more like Itachi himself than the friend Sasuke knew. Thought he knew.  _ “You don’t need to worry about that, Itachi.” _ Steel, this time. Sasuke couldn’t help the shiver or the sudden anxiety that made his teeth grind together.  _ “I  _ **_won’t_ ** _ let anything happen to Sasuke.” _

* * *

Akamaru was a warm weight on Kiba’s head, hind paws brushing the back of his neck, tail fur tickling almost between his shoulder blades. The cloud was thick this low down the mountain, a damp hovering presence that Kiba could never shake. The civilian parts of Kumogakure were further down, nestled in the little valleys that lined the Thunderous Range, but the central shinobi operational buildings were further up, above the cloud layer.

It made the living quarters of the shinobi clans a constantly wet, hazy strip that snaked through the cloud layer of Kumo’s expanse; despite the part that had been alloted to the Inuzuka clan being slightly lower than the rest, they hadn’t escaped it.

Kiba was at least used to it, after five years.

“It’s not fair,” he complained, picking up another of the new puppies while nearby, his sister made notes on them. “I haven’t done anything to them, but Sen-sensei kicks my ass every time I tell Lea to fuck off.” Gentle fingertips parted fur, and then ran down the pup’s spine, soothing the little whimpers. “Female.” Kiba pressed his nose to the pup’s grey head fur and then set her back down; she whined, peering blearily through half-open eyes, and wriggled back closer to her mother.

The nursing bitch watched Kiba and Hana with narrow, yellow eyes, the faintest twitch of her tail the only sign of her displeasure, but Kiba knew what warning signs to look for, knew that she understood they were just taking record of her litter. Behind him, as he reached for a small pup the same brown as his own eyes, Hana sighed. "You can't blame Kumo for not trusting us yet. We have a hundred and forty years of loyalty to Konoha behind us, and it's… pretty much unprecedented for an entire clan to shift allegiance like we did."

Kiba grumbled something incoherent, startled as Akamaru yipped a sorry agreement from his head, and rubbed a thumb back between the brown puppy's ears. "I miss Konoha." Very quiet. He'd never have dared voice such a sentiment outside of the Inuzuka houses, or even to most of their clanmates. "Female." He put the brown pup down.

"...I'm sorry, Kiba." Just as quiet, and before Kiba could stop her, Hana had set down her record book and crouched at Kiba's side, slung an arm around his shoulders. "I know you've been told the same thing as all the other kids. I know 'Konoha betrayed its pack' doesn't really mean anything to you - but trust me. Alright? We're better off here."

The same answer as always, when Kiba or any of the other young Inuzuka kids dared question their new home.  _ Konoha betrayed itself. Konoha turned on its pack. _ As if that alone was enough to explain their clan-wide exodus. Kiba was old enough to remember the night that had led to it - blood and chakra on all sides, the snarl of the Inuzuka ninken as the elder shinobi waded out into the fighting, the lifeless piles of fur they’d had to say goodbye to. He remembered only too clearly how Hana had sobbed while they’d buried Kuraimaru.

But what had really happened, what had  _ led _ to the outbreak of madness and violence, Kiba still didn’t know. It was too late to nag anyone about it, but he wasn’t one of the young Inuzuka kids, wasn’t too young to remember. He hadn’t been  _ born _ in the Hidden Cloud.

Sometimes, he wished he had been.

“Yeah, sure.” Muttered. Kiba reached for the last puppy, soft white with tawny streaks over its back. Slightly bigger than the others, eyes more open - watching Kiba and snapping toothless jaws as it was picked up. “Male.” He’d make for a good ninken one day, if his partner could properly tame his aggression.

Hana squeezed for a moment, a silent reassurance, before getting up and going to note down the colour and sex of the puppy. “What time are you due to meet your team?” she asked, voice carefully neutral. The record book went down onto a small table and out came a small set of pins and clamps, alongside a rectangular container of ink.

Grumbling, Kiba started back at the first of the pups and ignored the warning lip-lick Aoimaru gave them. Handing the puppy to Hana, Kiba headed towards the back to pick up the record book and pen.

Pins were turned and selected, ink applied, and then the tiny clamp went around the pup’s ear. A pulse of chakra, and the pins bit down for a moment, and the puppy squealed. A growl rippled out from Aoimaru as her pup was returned, but Hana murmured something soothing, and the bitch went quiet again. “What’s the ID?” A needless question, but Kiba could feel Akamaru nuzzling into his hair, and the silence was almost suffocating after the puppy’s cry of pain.

Hana set down the small clamp, kissed the pup’s head, and flipped its ear to read the identification number now tattooed there. “Six, seven, C, V, F, eight.” Writing it down by the relevant sex and colour, Kiba sighed.

“I’m supposed to be out there by noon.” Reluctantly admitted. It wasn’t a good excuse to avoid his sensei, but he fucking hated being with his so-called team. Not trusting him was… expected, if still unbearably annoying, but the way Lea eyed him constantly went beyond that. The way Sen-sensei watched him like he was a dog on the verge of biting. At least Iona just seemed uncertain of him.

Picking up the clamps to advance the number by one, Hana glanced back at him disapprovingly. “You’re going to be late if you stay to help much longer.” Selected the next pup and held the pins over its ear. Chakra pulsed, clamps bit, pup squeaked. “Six, seven, C, V, F, nine.”

Kiba kept his eyes on the record book as he wrote it down. “They hate me. There’s no point in even going.”

Frowning, Hana got to her feet and came over. Set her hands on Kiba’s shoulders. “I know it’s rough, but you can’t just disobey your sensei. We’re… outsiders, still. All you have to do is prove yourself to them.” Ruffling Akamaru’s ears as she turned away, she took the book and pen from his hands and went back to finish marking the puppies. “Which you can’t do if you’re hiding away here all the time. So go on. Get going.”

Kiba groaned. “Fine.” Maybe Hana was right - she usually was. Not that he’d ever say it where he could be heard, but Kiba was pretty sure Hana was even smarter than their mother. “Come on, Akamaru.” His ninken yipped from the top of his head. Easy for some; their teammates loved Akamaru with an abandon that Kiba would have killed to have for himself.

“Good luck, bro,” Hana called after him, and he gave a vague hum in response.

The autumn air was frigid and biting as they went outside, and Kiba took a moment to breathe it in, bracing himself. Akamaru whined and huddled deeper into his hair, and Kiba reached up to pull his hood up around his ninken. “There you go, buddy.” Rubbing his hands together and breathing onto his fingers, Kiba considered the winding path before sighing and setting off. He wasn’t very good at the whole using-chakra-to-climb-things yet, but he was serviceable.

Part of him couldn’t help but wonder, as he made his way across the precarious bridges and up the side of the mountain to the training ground where Team SILK usually met. The ability to use chakra as an adhesive to climb wasn’t something he’d ever heard of in the Konoha Academy - Kumo had required a performance of it as part of the graduation exam. Would Konoha have done the same? Had he simply been pulled out too early to know?

Where would he be, right now, if the clan had stayed?

Lea and Sen-sensei were already waiting, when Kiba clambered up to the artificially built flat area of their training ground, though Iona was nowhere to be seen. Sen-sensei nodded tightly at him, and he couldn’t bring himself to return it but Akamaru yipped happily from in his hood, so that would just have to do. Scowling, Lea looked him up and down scathingly and then turned away.

His jaw hurt from how hard he grit his teeth, but he held his tongue. Speaking out would only get him running laps while they waited for Iona; it had taken a month for him to figure out that defending himself wasn’t worth it. Not a lesson he was eager to forget.

Standing still for more than a few seconds at a time let the cold seep through Kiba’s jacket and into his skin, so after a minute he decided he’d be better off doing warmups. It was still only autumn, and winter up here in the mountains was relentlessly icy. He wasn’t looking forward to finding out just how much worse it was up here, doing missions instead of hiding away in the Academy building between reluctant ventures outside.

Iona showed up soon after, shivering faintly. Her breath came in puffs of cloud in front of her face. Sen-sensei nodded to her too, ignored Akamaru’s little bark of greeting, and gestured for them all to gather. “We’ve got a D-rank this afternoon,” they began, and Kiba perked up a bit. D-ranks were mundane and annoying, but they were  _ missions _ and they were paid. Plus, it was a welcome relief to be doing an official mission; not only did Lea and Iona have to suck up their personal biases and work with him, there was something intensely validating about performing actual jobs as a Kumo-nin. Even if he still hadn’t earned their trust, he  _ was _ one of them. If he wasn’t, he wouldn’t be allowed to do even D-ranks.

_ Hana’s right, _ he thought as Sen-sensei outlined their D-rank and what they’d be doing afterwards, if time permitted.  _ All I have to do is be Kiba, not just Inuzuka. _

* * *

It was sort of cheating, that Sasuke and Hinata were still trying to sort out their chakra control so they could walk up the trees, while Sakura ducked into a backwards roll to dodge a swipe from Kakashi-sensei and threw a single shuriken in response. Kunai in hand, Sakura spun up into a lunge, and while she hadn’t taken the time to actually sight-check him, if Kakashi had dodged the shuriken as she expected, he’d be in the way.

Her kunai pinged sideways off the metal guard that ran the length of Kakashi’s forearm - half-hidden behind the looser jōnin jacket sleeve - and her pulse spiked as Kakashi twisted in the opposite direction of her motion. Contact, and his arm went across her shoulders and then slid around her neck.

Maybe she should have feigned incompetence for longer, while they’d been learning to chakra-walk. She’d let herself take all day to nail the tree, when they’d first started at it on monday. Longer than it had taken her the first time, when she’d been learning it for real. And then two more, while Kakashi had ‘taught’ her to chakra-walk on water. As funny as it had been to watch him despair over how close she constantly got before letting herself fall into the river, after two days she’d been so bored that this morning, she’d walked out with ease and then proceeded to spar him back and forth across the surface of it. After so long of faking her ineptitude at it, perhaps she was pushing a little too far - but there was a fierce joy in dancing across the water, indulging in a simple taijutsu spar with him.

Even though he was different, even if he was colder and more damaged than before, he was still Kakashi-sensei. Still her family. She still loved him. Sparring him, to the exclusion of all else, was a euphoria she sometimes couldn’t quite believe she’d managed to get back. Maybe she shouldn’t let herself enjoy it so much, but there was a carnality in the way Kakashi-sensei let her throw herself into their fight without any hesitation.

Something primal, and raw. When everything was still so surreal, after five months of trying to adjust to the quiet peacetime of Konoha this early, of being small and twelve again, of Kakashi-sensei being so much taller than her, of trying to retrain her muscles to accept a static chakra weave and accommodate the technique that Tsunade-sensei had taken so much time to teach her in the first place - after so long of trying to convince herself it was real and figure out how she was supposed to handle the immensity of the task before her, when she couldn’t tell anyone else what lay ahead, when she still had to actually train and become strong enough to do anything at all, letting it all go and just sparring was… It was… intoxicating.

So she plunged headfirst into the shuddering adrenaline and twisted in Kakashi’s grip as his arm went around her throat. Flashed him a wicked smile - nixed the fluttery layer of chakra at her feet and dropped like a stone into the water.

Kakashi danced back as she did, weaving handsigns, but Sakura knew that letting him complete a ninjutsu would likely just end her on the spot. She simply didn’t have the constitution to withstand a direct hit yet, nor did she have the speed to dodge. Instead, she let out a sharp chakra expulsion and broke the surface of the river, clambering out with a similar shimmer of chakra on her hands, lunging after Kakashi again as she did.

A few steps back kept him out of her range, and still flipping through handsigns as he went. He was going through them slowly, letting her count them and see what they were.  _...Monkey, Rat, Dog, Bird, Dog… _ Did she recognise that series of seals?  _ Snake, Dog, Dragon. _ Probably a water release, based on the frequency of Dog sea—

_ Oh, fuck. _

Hurling her kunai at him, she tugged out a second one and leapt for him, intent on disrupting the jutsu rather than actually hitting him. Chakra flexed along the filigree weaves she’d been building in every muscle, a burst from her feet to throw her further, faster. There was a fraction of a second where their gazes met, Kakashi’s eye widening slightly.

He wasn’t expecting the speed of her reaction, wasn’t expecting her to recognise the jutsu he was casting.  _ (A water dragon, here? Maybe he’s just trying to scare me. There’s more of that tactic, this time around). _ A flashburn of his chakra signature, somewhere between sight and scent and touch against her senses, and he vanished in a blur of motion. His slipstream went past her, whipping her hair up into a ragged halo; she spun with it, sheeting chakra out across one hand to catch her fall against the river surface. Using her hand instead of her forearm to catch her weight, and only averting the risk to her wrist bones by fortifying them with her own chakra before impact, felt wrong and dangerous, but she had no choice.

All skill aside, she was no Hyuuga, and despite all her practice she hadn’t yet learned to expel chakra from the tenketsu in her forearms. It would take a long time of practice before she ever got that far, and without the Hyuuga’s Kekkei Genkai, she’d never get any further.

Sometimes she really hated being a civilian-born shinobi.

“Fuck!” Chirped, sharply, as Kakashi’s shin connected hard with her free arm, sending her skidding back across the water. He was still weaving. “Oh, come on!” Already scrambling to her feet, throwing her second kunai at him and drawing a third with her other hand. Throwing that straight afterwards - watching the weapon arc too far sideways and dip before ever getting near her target.  _ Oh goddamn it. _ A throw made with her off-hand. Sakura had forgotten how difficult it was, at the start, to train herself how to make decent throws with her non-dominant hand.

Kakashi simply rotated and dipped to dodge her one good shot, and when he came upright again, she spotted the Dog seal holding and felt the flare of searing white chakra.  _ Game over, _ and Sakura let herself slump back into the water, even as she felt it whirl and bubble beneath her. Of course, she hadn’t expected to win - even back (ahead?) when she’d been at her peak, Sakura was sure she couldn’t have beaten Kakashi in a real fight.

Even expecting it, when the water dragon surged up out of the river and hit her, glistening teeth gripping her shoulder and flipping her into the air, the sudden lurch of movement and spinning gravity yanked out a cry from her throat. She flailed for a second, fought down the panic reflex of her untrained body, and stretched her limbs in every direction, trying to stabilise herself in the air so she could figure out a safe landing.

Another flicker of chakra against her senses - warm and familiar - and then Kakashi-sensei’s arm was around her waist, her side pressed gently against his own. He landed with an easy flex of chakra and muscle, and held for a moment. He’d caught her. Then he released her, and she tumbled to the ground at his feet; soft grass where he’d jumped to, just beyond the riverbank.

Sakura blinked, dazed, while everything slotted together, and then all at once she burst into laughter.  _ I just got my ass kicked. _ But it was Kakashi-sensei, and she was completely safe. Even attacking her, he wouldn’t let anything harm her. She was sore from the fight, and her shoulder would bruise where Kakashi’s water dragon had bitten her, but there was no lasting damage. Nothing that would impede her tomorrow.

“I yield, Sensei,” she managed between gasping, laughed breaths. “Mercy.”

Crouching by her, Kakashi let her dissolve into giggles. His gaze went away from her, studied Sasuke and Hinata across the clearing where they were still working on chakra-walking up their trees. They could do it now, three days in, but they weren’t consistent. Right now, Hinata was taking a break, and looked to be encouraging Sasuke while he took a running start and booked it most of the way up.

Amused delight settled into something warm and soothing under Sakura’s skin, and she smiled softly to herself, sitting up. It had been five months, and she still had no idea where Naruto was - if he was safe, what had happened, why nobody else knew where he was either - but he was strong. He’d be okay until she could find him; and until then, all she could do was try and focus on what she had right in front of her. Dwelling on all the things she couldn’t change or fight or fix right now had led to so many sleepless nights and too many hours spent running around Konoha. Losing track of time and ending up late to training.

Sometimes, she wondered just how much she was taking after her sensei. Maybe she was simply trying to be closer to him. There weren’t words enough to explain the rending grief in her chest when she’d watched him die, the way it had felt like her ribcage was cracking apart.

This, now, was warm and precious, and she wouldn’t take it for granted again.

“I can’t figure you out, Sakura.” Quiet, where Kakashi was crouched by her, still watching his other two genin. She looked at him, holding onto the happy moment as if it would flee the second she loosened her grip. “But I’ve been thinking that, perhaps, I was too quick to judge you.”

She blinked, picking that apart in her head. What was an appropriate response? Giving a genuine one was an impulse she’d gotten better at restraining, over the last few months. She was meant to be twelve - and her parents had stared at her too strangely too many times when she’d forgotten to act like it. So the immediate response that came to mind was dismissed, but then wh—

“I’m sorry…?” she heard herself say. Felt her expression flicker as she forced down the irritation at the anxious waver in her voice.  _ Seriously? _ It was a side-effect she hadn’t been anticipating, when she’d started to reign in her conscious self; the self-conscious and uncertain threads in her mind, woven in by her native self, were coming through more and more. After a moment, Sakura took a quick breath to try and gloss it over. “I don’t know what you mean, Sensei.”

Kakashi hummed, and then turned his head to look at her. “I was suspicious of you because you react like a kunoichi who’s seen real combat, not a fresh Academy graduate.” A dark note in his voice, but also something else; an edge of… concern?

Panic burned through Sakura’s warm fuzzy feelings.  _ Oh. _ But if he was thinking different now, then—

Then what…?

“Do you remember your first lesson?”

_ Yes, _ barely swallowed down, a swirl of thoughts that went back too far, Sasuke and Naruto at her sides, the elation of passing the bell test, the odd prickling sensation of realising for the first time - truly - that they were a  _ team _ and not just three genin. The way Kakashi-sensei had somehow impressed upon her without words the acute  _ realness _ of the situation.

But that’s not what he was talking about. Kakashi -  **this** Kakashi - didn’t remember that. It had never happened to him. So she licked her lips to buy time and ran through her more recent memories, and then finally let herself nod. A tumble into Kakashi’s arms, ignoring the uncomfortable tension that gave away how much he didn’t want to be carrying her while her hand bled and throbbed with pain.

“Yes,” she let herself finally say. “Don’t lie to you.”

A nod. It wasn’t approval, not really; Kakashi’s mouth was a hard line, almost invisible under his mask, and there was the faintest crinkle at the corner of his eye that told her he was… worried? The urge to hug him was almost overwhelming - but as far as he was concerned, they’d only been acquainted for five months. It had taken years for him to accept any form of comfort from her, let alone physical comfort. He’d reject it, if she tried.

“Good. Keeping that in mind…” said quietly -  _ gently. _ Something almost like fear flashed in her chest. “Did something happen, Sakura? When you graduated, or around that time?” His voice was low and serious. The cold edge was… gone.

_ Oh. Oh, Sensei. _ She didn’t know what to say. Multiple times, she’d already noted the recognition in his face, when she slipped and reacted like she was in battle. It happened too often, mistakes and reflexes she just couldn’t get under control; she’d nearly popped Sasuke in the face during one lesson, and only Kakashi’s quick grip around her wrist had saved him a broken nose. She just couldn’t help it. Half the time, all thought vanished into a black screaming static and she was barely even  _ aware _ of her reactions until after it was too late.

Knowing what was happening should have made it easier, but it didn’t. Studying the mental effects of trauma had gone alongside studying the physical ones, and she understood why she panicked sometimes, when an attack caught her off-guard - even when it was just sparring, even when nobody actually meant to hurt her. With everything that had happened to her, with the way the war had broken out and the role she’d played in it, with the way it had fallen apart afterwards…

Even if she hadn’t known already the way trauma affected the mind and the reflexes, the nightmares that still plagued her would have clued her in.

Sakura looked away, knowing damn well that it would only make him more suspicious that something had…  _ happened _ to her. Technically speaking, wasn’t he right? Her body was twelve years old - her brain was  _ twelve years old. _ Being flooded with memory and experience that belonged to the eighteen year old version of her, the version of her that had at least enjoyed almost another year of ignorant blissful idealisation before the cold reality of being a shinobi had started to seep in.

Yeah. Something had happened to her. But she couldn’t say it - couldn’t admit it. Explaining it was too dangerous, and not just for her. She risked being locked in the Anbu cells for the rest of her life, but if Kakashi-sensei knew, if she told him, and he said nothing… he’d be culpable for it too. He’d either turn her over and ruin any chance she had of saving the world from the carnage that had destroyed it, or he’d keep her secret and put himself at risk in the process.

It was better that he didn’t know.

“I… I’m alright, Sensei.” She should lie. She should say, outright, that nothing had happened - but the attempt tasted like ash and bile, and she just couldn’t get the words out.

Kakashi cuffed her around the head, and the same jolt that she was trying to suppress went through her whole body, like touching a live wire, a sharp sideways jerk away and the sensation of muscles tensing and flexing and lashing out while a ripple of hollow nothing went through her mind.  _ Fuck, _ even as Kakashi caught her hand in a gentle grip, and Sakura swallowed back the mixture of panic and anger. Neither had any place here.

Knowingly, he met her gaze with his own.  _ He knows a trauma response when he sees one. _ A thought she’d had before, but it rang loud and clear this time. “I told you not to lie to me.” Sharper - scolding - but still more quiet than he usually was. Softer.

His fingers stayed locked around her wrist, but they were so light that it would have taken even just a feeble attempt to break free. Sakura didn’t make one.

“I…”

_ Don’t lie to me. _

Sakura looked away. Carefully, Kakashi released her wrist and settled back. “What happened, Sakura?”

_ You died. I died. Everyone died. I fucking time travelled and everything I know is gone. I’m alone. _

“I… I don’t want to talk about it.” Forced out, and Sakura hated that her voice was shaking - she hated how much she wanted to just tell him the truth.  _ Don’t lie to me _ \- and yet even this was a fucking falsehood. She  **did** want to talk about it. She wanted to tell him everything. More than just wanting his opinion, more than knowing he’d know what to do when she had no idea. Sakura wanted to spill her guts and let Kakashi-sensei make everything okay again. She wanted to give up the responsibility for it. She wanted to let Kakashi-sensei look after her.

But with the way he was now, she wasn’t even sure that would happen. And if it did, it would be monumentally unfair, when Kakashi’s whole life had already been so unfair. She would be  **better** than that.

He hummed. “Whatever happened to you, does it affect your ability to do your job?” That got her eyes back on him, a nervous blink in response. “Are you a liability to this team?”

If it had been colder, Sakura would have been stung. If she hadn’t known better, it would sound like disinterested concern that she would let them down, that she couldn’t do it. Instead, she took a sharp breath and held it, shifting just enough to set her forefinger and thumb either side of the webbed flesh between her opposing thumb and forefinger, and dig them in as hard as she could. The sharp pain twinged up through her arm, and the sudden sting of tears subsided.

Whatever she’d changed that had hurt him, the Kakashi she knew was still in there. Worried that she would do something stupid and get herself hurt. Worried that she would have to carry the guilt of her teammate’s death when maybe, if she’d responded better, she could have saved them.

He couldn’t possibly know that she did so already.

“No, Kakashi-sensei,” she whispered back.

A nod, and Kakashi turned his eye back on Sasuke and Hinata. Sasuke was at the top of his tree, and even as they watched he gestured encouragement to Hinata as she backed up to run up her own. “Okay. When you’re ready, tell me about it. That’s an order.”

Something in Sakura’s chest withered, even as something else went all warm. She could never tell him - but she desperately wanted to, and now she knew he would listen.

_ I can’t. _ “Yes, Kakashi-sensei.”  _ I won’t. _ “Thank you.”

_ I’m sorry. _

* * *

It was, perhaps, a little soon to be taking a fresh genin squad on a C-rank mission, but Kakashi was… well, if not convinced, then willing to gamble that Team Seven was ready. Sakura was more skilled than she let on - even if she kept investing more energy into faking incompetence than into actually training. Sasuke was an incredibly talented kid, despite the massive inferiority complex that plagued his every step; hard to blame him, when he walked in Itachi’s shadow. Even Hinata was skilled enough to handle herself - it was convincing her of that fact that posed a problem.

And besides, Kakashi was more than capable of soloing a C-rank with  _ both _ eyes closed.

Under Tsunade’s quirked eyebrow, Hinata had her eyes on the floor like she wanted to melt through it, while Sasuke stared at Sakura with equal incredulity. The girl had both hands clapped over her mouth, and even as she got stared down, she glanced sideways to Kakashi for help.

She did that a lot. The glances. Looking to Kakashi for reassurance, for direction. No matter how harsh he was, or how often he put the three of them on their asses, Sakura would always look to him first for direction.

Worse, even when he didn’t offer any direct response, she always seemed to find it. Always read  _ something _ in what little of his expression he showed. The kids didn’t know him nearly well enough to read through his mask, and yet Sakura never looked at him the same way Hinata or Sasuke did. It was… closer to how his Anbu team had looked to him, back when he’d been their captain. The same way his shadows had looked to him the night of—

_ Enough. _ How his thoughts always somehow circled back wasn’t their fault, and they didn’t deserve his inevitable ire if he dwelled on it.

“Sorry, Hokage-sama,” Sakura squeaked out through her hands. She sounded afraid; tension lined every muscle in her body. “I’m— just surprised. Sorry.” Hands lowered hesitantly, held at her sides. Her fingers twitched faintly, chin held just a little too high. Another glance to Kakashi - a clenched jaw as she focused back on Tsunade and held it rigidly.

Kakashi sighed. “I thought you three  _ wanted _ to do something more exciting than a D-rank?”

“Hell yes.” Sasuke, instantaneously. He shot Sakura a frown, before nudging Hinata. She squeaked out something that might have been an agreement. “You said it was an escort mission, right Hokage-sama?”

For just a moment, Tsunade met Kakashi’s gaze. He gave her the smallest nod. So fast that the kids wouldn’t notice - or at least, so fast that none of them should. Kakashi was barely even surprised when green eyes flashed between them; of course Sakura had seen.

Whatever terrible thing had been done to her - something that, at least six months after the fact, Sakura had yet to utter even a single word about - she was far more skilled than she’d let on in the Academy and she was still trying to hide it behind badly feigned incompetence and deliberate mistakes. Kakashi was starting to suspect that it went back further than that; whereas Sasuke was naturally talented, Sakura’s prowess was skill.  _ Learned _ ability.  _ Learned _ strength. Maybe she’d been hiding it for years.

Tsunade waved a hand. “There’s no significant risk; your client hasn’t reported any reason for personal attack.” Their client could have lied, of course, but it wasn’t something many civilians had the guts to do. The Great Shinobi Villages were notoriously vengeful when it came to clients lying about contracts. “You’ll be escorting him along the route between Konoha and the Land of Waves. It’s not uncommon for bandits to find opportunity there; more than likely, your presence alone will be enough to dissuade them. No need to get excited.”

While Sasuke scowled in disappointment, Hinata breathed a silent sigh of relief. Fixing the crushing self-esteem problems the girl had was proving to be far more theoretical than practical. If the actual improvement she’d shown month by month - week by week - wasn’t enough to prove her to herself, and the inevitable success of this mission didn’t do it (even if Kakashi ended up fulfilling it himself in the unlikely event it became too dangerous for his genin), he was going to have to take drastic measures. It wasn’t an activity he was particularly enthusiastic about pursuing.

“You’ll meet the client tomorrow, at the southern gate. Kakashi has the rest of your mission details.” Given to him yesterday, when he consulted Tsunade about taking the team on an out-of-village mission. He sighed internally, bracing himself for the slew of questions he was sure to get once Tsunade dismissed them. “If you screw this up, you make all of Konoha look bad. You got that?”

Another interesting array of reactions, from the three kids. Hinata seemed terrified, hugging herself anxiously and managing a faint nod of acknowledgement. Sasuke offered a much more convincing nod, accompanied by a firm “Yes, Hokage-sama.”

Quieter - and seeming uncertain - Sakura echoed him. “Yes, Hokage-sama.”

“Alright. Now get going, I’m busy.” Tsunade waved a dismissal.

Giving them just long enough to execute quick bows, Kakashi led the genin back out of Tsunade’s office and down through the building. Sasuke was practically vibrating with anticipation - it was only noon, as Kakashi hadn’t organised a D-rank for today, but there was no point in trying to work with them now. “You’re all dismissed for the day,” he told them instead. “Get yourselves packed and ready for this escort. We could be gone for as long as three weeks.”

Estimating three entire weeks for a simple escort mission to the Land of Waves and back was demonstrously long, but the client was a civilian and couldn’t move even a fraction as far or fast as they could in a single day. On top of that, they were genin and Kakashi fully intended to hang back and let them handle the mission itself until it became necessary for him to step in. Even then, it shouldn’t take longer than two - but adding a week of buffer would make sure they had the leeway to deal with anything that might go awry.

It didn’t take skill to inflict a wound, after all, even against a shinobi. It only took one lucky shot.

“Tomorrow at ten, right, Kakashi-sensei?” Sasuke asked, already most of the way ready to run off. He didn’t even wait for a verbal response; as soon as Kakashi nodded, he was heading home, waving over his shoulder. “See you then!” And he was gone. By gods, he was the most impulsive Uchiha that Kakashi had ever met. Maybe there was hope for him after all.

Hinata bowed, the nervous tic of formality betraying how anxious she really was about the mission. “I’ll see you tomorrow too, Kakashi-sensei. Sakura.” Her pace was more sedate, as she began to walk away - shoulders hunched - but she didn’t glance back. Kakashi left her to whatever spiralling thoughts she was thinking. Let her panic. If he was lucky - unbelievably, inhumanly lucky - she’d get through them all today, and be in a better headspace tomorrow.

“Kakashi-sensei?” Sakura asked hesitantly. She shifted her weight when he turned his gaze on her. Bit her lip. “What… What was the client’s name?” Something in her eyes that hovered between fear and anger.

She went pale, when he answered.

“Tazuna.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stuff and things:  
>  | _I told you I didn't forget about Asuma._  
>  | Okay, so… Takigakure. There’s precisely two whole fifths of sweet fuck all information on it in the wiki, and I didn’t get that far through Naruto to see it in the manga or anime (for previously established reasons of Kishimoto sucking my dick). Therefore, the vast majority of Taki culture and literally everything about how its shinobi system functions is stuff that I and my beta (Clockwork) have created ourselves. If there’s any actual conflict with anything presented about Taki in canon, well, canon can get fucked, I’m not changing it LMAO  
>  | On that note, don’t @ me about Taki-nin names. I’ve decided they’re weird. That’s just how it do now.  
>  | So, about Konohamaru. His name has been changed to (Sarutobi) Kota because Asuma panicked and picked it at random to avoid the kid being literally named after fucking Konohagakure, but not before the first syllable was out of his damn mouth. As I'm sure you've noticed, there are good reasons that Asuma doesn't want the kid _literally named after fucking Konoha._  
>  | I didn't forget about Kiba, either.  
>  | Did any of y’all get the trick for team SILK? Speaking of SILK, Iona uses she/her, Sen uses they/them, and Lea uses she/her. Should I be doing pronoun notifications for all the OCs or is it fine just having them used in the actual narrative?  
>  | Let’s be realistic, here: given how integral it is for like, pretty much everything ever, Kakashi waiting until they’re in the middle of a high-risk death-probable mission to teach his genin how to chakra-walk on things is up there amongst the stupidest decisions he’s made, especially considering that he should have been focusing on literally anything that would keep them alive. They didn’t even use that skill for the actual fight that ended up happening with Haku and Zabuza. So I’m having him teach that now, in the comfort of Konoha, before they’re taking out-of-village missions. What the hell kind of incompetent bullshit was that, taking them out of Konoha when they couldn’t do something as basic as that. (Then again, this is the same canon that decided nobody cared about knowing their genin’s chakra affinities out of the Academy so who the fuck knows, at this point).  
>  | Also, just so we’re crystal clear, Kakashi is not going to be shipped with any of his students. Or anyone in Sakura’s generation. He’s basically Team Seven's second dad, a’ight? Ninja Dad.  
>  | Holy fucking shit, the more I read about Kishimoto’s apparent “timeline” the less it fucking makes sense and the more I have to FIX.  
>  | Writing because lockdown can be bad and I wanna help y’all not lose your mind as much as possible. ALSO got a Tumblr for this shit, here ya go lads. [Silver Starlight Writes](https://silverstarlightwrites.tumblr.com/%5D)  
>  | **FINALLY LADS. WE’RE GETTING TO THE DAMN PLOT. Hope y’all are ready for the fucking Land of Waves arc. Let us ENGAGE THE STORY, my best bitches.**
> 
> Next chapter due: **23rd April 2020**


	8. As We Simply Flutter, Like Leaves in the Mist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sakura and her team walk into the mist.

Sakura was the first one at the southern Konoha gate, the next morning. An hour still to go until they were actually due, but she’d barely slept over the night and risen with the sun. Running several laps around the village perimeter would only go so far, so she’d done her cool down stretches and walked as sedately as she could all the way to the gate itself. The pair of chūnin manning it - she was sure she recognised Izumo’s face - had been eyeing her for at least an hour now.

Not that she blamed them, necessarily, for being so suspicious of her. The Konoha hitai-ite gave her credibility, but her size and age said that she shouldn’t be out here on her own. She  _ especially _ shouldn’t be walking up and down the walls because she couldn’t bring herself to keep still, and yet here she was. At least it kept the cold at bay. Winter was mild in Fire Country, but it was still the coldest that she was accustomed to. The lightweight red jacket she’d thrown on this morning over her customary clothes only did so much when half her legs were exposed.

Hinata was the first of her teammates to arrive; she didn’t even notice Sakura initially, only a few minutes before ten; she let out a shrill yelp when Sakura dropped down at her side. “O-oh— Good morning, Sakura,” she stammered, and Sakura gave her a soft smile.

“Hi, Hinata. You ready?” Sakura doubted it - but she was probably projecting. The prospect of meeting Tazuna again was like a whirlpool in her stomach, as if she’d swallowed an Aburame hive. There was absolutely no protest she could make, no hint she could drop that Tazuna was lying, without giving herself away.

Kakashi-sensei was smarter than her. He’d nail her in seconds for knowing more than she should about this mission.

It didn’t make the idea of fighting Zabuza or Haku again any less terrifying.

She wouldn’t be useless this time, of course. She knew how to fight, she’d faced down deadlier opponents, she wouldn’t freeze. If worse came to worst, she was a master med-nin. Even though she couldn’t risk showing that particular knowledge-sphere - there was no explanation she could give except for the truth - she’d done enough tests at home to know that she was capable of utilising that skill if she had to.

But still. They’d nearly killed Team Seven in its entirety the first time around. Saying nothing put Sasuke and Hinata in immense danger. She was putting Kakashi-sensei at risk. If they got hurt - if they  _ died _ \- it would be her fault.

Hinata ran her fingers behind one ear; a habitual motion. Tucking her hair back, if it had been loose. Still worn long, but Hinata had taken to braiding it recently; a complicated, beautiful pattern that wound tight against her skull, all the way from her right temple and back around until it ended just below her left ear, at her jaw. Today, she’d woven something thin and silver throughout it - it was very pretty, glittering against her dark hair. “... I’m nervous,” she admitted, forcing a tense little smile. “But I think we’ll be okay. You and Sasuke are really strong, and Kakashi-sensei is… well, you know.”

_ Yeah. I know. _ But instead of acknowledging that, Sakura took a gentle grip of Hinata’s elbow. “So are you, Hinata. Remember, you can beat me and Sasuke in sparring too.” And they were going to need every single scrap of strength she had to offer.

White eyes studied her too closely, and Sakura released her grip and looked away. Maybe it had shown in her face. It wouldn’t surprise her. This would be their first real test. It had been the first time, too, but the difference was that this time, Sakura knew ahead of time the monumental risk that they were going to be at.

She knew how close to death they were about to come.

It was only natural that she was terrified… right?

Sasuke showed up next, with barely a minute to spare before ten o’clock. He set down his bag next to the wall beside Sakura and Hinata’s, and then leant against it himself. “I’ll bet you both a thousand ryo that Kakashi-sensei doesn’t get here before noon.” Flashed at them through a smirk. No clue of the horror looming ahead of them.

With a soft little giggle, Hinata tilted her head. “... Okay.” Another smile in return, and Sasuke reached over to shake her hand. When they glanced at her, Sakura tried to mimic their smiles and waved both hands, shaking her head.

“I’m out.” There was no telling when Kakashi-sensei would show up. If he wasn’t concerned about Tazuna - either that his contract would turn out to be false, or that Kakashi would negatively impact Konoha’s reputation if he was late - then it could be mid-afternoon before they got going.

If he  _ was _ concerned about Tazuna, he could be here as early as half an hour from now.

The urge to ask them to spar was overwhelming - something to focus her mind, stop her from thinking about the mission she knew she wasn’t going to sabotage - but she held it down. They were in public, at a Konoha gate. Representing the village. This wasn’t a training ground; this wasn’t the place to throw each other around.

Sasuke shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

Time  _ crawled. _ Hinata was nervous, but it didn’t make Sakura feel any better. Hinata was always nervous. If she actually expected this mission to blow up in their faces, she’d be a mess; instead, she was making bets with Sasuke and trying to return his casual chatting.  _ Gods. _ Suddenly, Sakura wanted to cry. She’d have given anything -  _ anything _ \- to be the naive, excited genin everyone thought she was.

Everything felt… so heavy. She knew too much, and she didn’t know what to do about it.

Tazuna was half an hour late in his own right. Just as Sakura remembered, he came staggering by with a sake bottle in hand. Straw hat tipped back, revealing a ragged beard and pockmarked face beneath a shock of grey-brown hair. "I'll get him," she chimed in quickly, before either of her teammates could react. Sakura couldn't imagine either of them giving a good or particularly helpful reaction.

It was only as she approached the man that it occurred to her that none of them should actually be able to recognise Tazuna on sight yet.  _ Shit.  _ How did she—? Oh. Obvious, actually. "Hello, sir?" she asked, tipping her head to look under the hat's brim more comfortably. "Are you alright?"

Tazuna turned glassy, dark brown eyes on her and stared for just a beat too long. "Th' fuck 're you?" he grouched, glancing around before taking a swig of sake.

Sighing, Sakura shot a placating glance towards the chūnin on gate duty, shaking her head minutely. The one who'd risen slightly - she was  _ sure _ it was Izumo - paused, and then sat back down. Kept his eyes glued to them, ready to interfere if Tazuna gave Sakura any trouble. It was almost sweet, given he didn't have the faintest clue how easily Sakura could handle the bridge-builder on her own.

“I’m a Konoha-nin,” she said, raising her voice just enough for Sasuke and Hinata to hear. “Do you need any help?” She shouldn’t be able to recognise Tazuna yet - but offering her help as a shinobi to an obviously inebriated civilian was ninja 101. Even Kakashi couldn’t be suspicious of her for doing that.

Or… Well… He probably could be, if she was honest, but Kakashi-sensei’s overwhelming paranoia wasn’t a good reason.

Tazuna sneered at her, and she felt Sasuke and Hinata move up closer, felt the sharpening of their chakra signatures. If it got aggressive, the whole thing was going to go sideways. Was Kakashi watching them right now, already? Was he watching her to see what she’d do? Or was he away in the shinobi graveyard, saying goodbye to his own teammates before leaving on this mission? Maybe he would never be any the wiser as to what happened now.

Maybe it didn’t matter.

Sakura held a hand out, just a little, flicking her fingers at the other two genin. Still sneering, Tazuna gave her a rough look up and down, and then turned his gaze on them. There was fear, underneath the drunken disdain; something hunted, the same frightened gleam of an animal that knows there’s a predator around the corner. Had that been there the first time, too?

Had Sasuke seen it there, when Sakura hadn’t known the first damn thing about the real world? Had Kakashi?

“I’m meetin’ some trumped up ninja for an escort, or summin’.” Scornful, even as Tazuna’s gaze flickered between the three of them. It was impossible that he’d missed their hitai-ite, gleaming in the cold morning sun. As short as Sakura was now, he couldn’t have missed even hers, the metal plate facing the sky instead of the customary place on her forehead.

_ Hm. _ She’d been wearing it that way because she’d always worn it that way. Maybe she should change it, this time around.

From behind her, Hinata got closer. “Are you Tazuna-san?” she asked, her voice ever so quiet. Sasuke’s chakra signature boiled on Sakura’s other flank, as Tazuna bared his teeth at them.

“Ya ain’t telling me that  _ you _ fuckin’ kids are s’posed to protect me.” Derisive, and Sakura shot Sasuke a warning glance that only barely kept him quiet. He was right, to be offended, but Sakura couldn’t bring herself to be upset. She knew what they didn’t. She knew that Tazuna was just afraid he was going to get them killed.

_ Not this time. _ She knew better. If they ended up trying to complete this insane suicide mission to save the Land of Waves from the greed of a single political madman, then she had a good idea of what they were up against. She knew Kakashi could hold out long enough to protect them, if push came to shove - she knew the shortcut for saving everyone.

Zabuza wouldn’t bother fighting them if he didn’t stand to make a financial gain. If Gatō was dead, then he’d leave them all alone. If Gatō died before anyone got seriously hurt, then Zabuza would have no reason to fight them at all. And if Zabuza didn’t fight, then Haku wouldn’t either.

Forcing a smile was harder than it should have been, but Sakura did so all the same. “We’re most of Team Seven, yes. We’ll be your escort party for your trip home.”  _ You liar. _ But she knew why. It was hard to be angry, even now, for the same reason she hadn’t been angry with him the first time. Even if he muttered something about useless kids and she had to ask herself if she was capable of restraining Sasuke by force. “We’re just waiting for our fourth team member to arrive.”

Maybe she wasn’t angry with him, but Tazuna was still being a fucking cunt about it. Let him stew in that for a while. It was an ultimately harmless - if petty - revenge.

Sakura exchanged another glance with Izumo - he was watching closely, eyes narrow, waiting to see if he needed to intervene - and then backed up a little. Sasuke and Hinata came with her; the Hyuuga kept her head down, hugging herself, digging her fingers into her own elbows. “Listen,” she murmured, meeting the fire in Sasuke’s eyes. “I know he’s a dick, but we have to just deal with it. Alright? We’re representing Konoha, we can’t be turning on our own clients.”

A low little growl. “Even if he fucking deserves it.” But the note of defeat in Sasuke’s voice showed he’d heard her. Sakura let out a little sigh of relief. “Don’t listen to him, Hinata. He’s an idiot.”

Warmth shot through Sakura’s chest. The last six months of trying to acclimate to her new reality were littered with countless little moments, hundreds of instances of the person Sasuke truly was. He was just as cunning and opinionated as he'd ever been - but there was compassion, now. A sense of justice that had been warped into a thirst for vengeance in Sakura's first lifetime. There was a kindness, that Sakura had deluded herself into seeing even after Itachi had stamped it out, that Sasuke still carried now.

Now that she actually knew him, Sakura could only wonder at how much Itachi must have hated himself, after everything that had gone wrong. This time, maybe she could save him too.

It was barely eleven thirty when Sakura caught the flutter-spark of Kakashi’s chakra signature nearby. The grin was in place before she could regulate it, but Itachi had taken her and Sasuke for two full lessons on chakra detection and concealment, and she’d been sure to show them a dramatic rise in skill. Doing so flew in the face of the incompetence she’d been trying to portray, and that was a decision she was already regretting; but after six months Sakura knew well enough that she wasn’t capable of pretending not to notice the flickering chakra signatures of the village around her.

“Kakashi-sensei’s here,” she announced, to the frustrated groan of defeat that Sasuke offered. Hinata giggled quietly, a little noise of triumph. Cold and hot swept through Sakura’s body in equal measure, an unsettling tingling feeling, like her skin being painlessly peeled away. No matter what, she had to protect them. She couldn’t let Zabuza or Orochimaru or  _ anyone _ destroy her team like they had the first time.

Hinata gave Sasuke a high five when he offered his hand. “I owe you,” he conceded, grumbled but smiling slightly. Still weird, to see him with anything but a sullen scowl, even after seeing it every day for so long. Weirder, to watch him so casually touch someone.

But Hinata smiled back. “Alright.”

“Are you all ready to go?” came Kakashi’s voice. He sounded incredibly bored, though Sakura caught the way he eyed Tazuna while the bridge-builder’s focus was on his genin. Then, without even waiting for them to respond: “Good. I’m Hatake Kakashi,” he greeted their client, both hands in his pockets. Sakura took the hint and grabbed her bag, slinging it around her shoulders while Sasuke and Hinata followed suit. “My genin will be in charge of guarding you.” Gestured towards them with his chin.

It was almost insulting, the complaint that she saw rise in Tazuna’s face as he clenched the neck of his sake bottle. Even knowing it was born from the knowledge that he’d lied and that they were in far more danger than Tazuna had said, Sakura was hard-pressed to disagree with the quiet growl of irritation Sasuke let out.

Before Tazuna could say anything aloud, though, Kakashi’s voice cut through. “Is that a problem, Tazuna-san?” Perfectly even; not even cold. He sounded so  _ mild. _

Lucky for everyone, Tazuna seemed to get the hint, even as drunk as he was. He blinked, cast another glance over Team Seven, and then wrinkled his nose as he dropped his gaze to the ground. “Nah, whatever. ‘t’s fine.” It wasn’t fine.  _ Bastard. _ Knowingly putting them in danger, even if she understood his desperation. Sakura felt her jaw clench despite herself. If he’d just been honest with Konoha, there was every chance they’d have helped him. Tsunade would never want to watch the collapse of an entire nation - even a micro-nation such as Wave Country - and do nothing.

_ Just have to protect them. _ Maybe she could find a way to make Kakashi think the threat was bigger than he had last time. Reporting it back to Tsunade-sensei once Tazuna confessed didn’t necessarily mean he wouldn’t get the help he needed. Only this time, maybe it would be a team of actual qualified jōnin who could tackle a problem like Zabuza and Haku and the entire economic collapse of the Land of Waves as it was annexed by its own corrupt leader.

…

Fuck.

…

_ Fuck. _

They didn’t make small talk as they formed up and Kakashi-sensei walked over to hand the mission slip to Izumo. It was a mark of how well his lessons had been working that the three of them didn’t need to say anything to line up, Sakura ahead of Tazuna and Sasuke and Hinata flanking him. Kakashi glanced over them once, and then took his place on point.

Sakura didn’t know if the others saw, but the briefest flicker of pride in his eye was enough to tear through the fear of a moment ago. They were in danger, but they would look after each other.

They got a good few hours’ walking in before anything of note happened. Keeping quiet wasn’t the easiest task Sakura had ever given herself - watching Kakashi lead the group at a leisurely pace, listening to Tazuna grumble to himself and work through the last of his sake, pretending that she wasn’t eavesdropping on Sasuke and Hinata’s occasional whispers - but it was far from the hardest. Just as it had been that first time, the sun was bright and watery overhead, shooting through the forest to dapple the established path they were following.

She was on edge, trying to keep her awareness up, behave like they could be attacked at any moment. Technically speaking, they  _ could. _ Their official mission was to protect Tazuna from attack on his way home, so even as frustrating as it was to match his lazy pace, their  _ job _ was to maintain keen senses and be prepared. Realistically, if Tazuna had really only been under casual threat, it wasn’t feasible to do what Sakura was trying. She knew that, knew that the key was having quick reflexes and keeping her senses open and not holding such a vigilant ( _ exhausting _ ) guard, but she couldn’t help it.

There  _ was _ an attack coming -  **soon** \- and she had to be ready for it. Keeping her chakra signature concealed was a waste of effort while they were travelling in the open, so she put that effort into detecting anyone else’s instead. Quick little pulses, stretching her senses out as far as she could. Hunting.

Too much time had passed, and Sakura couldn’t remember what the chakra signatures of the Mist’s two so-called Demon Brothers felt like; she hadn’t known it was something she would need, and besides it had been so early on… Sakura wasn’t sure she’d even been able to read signatures at the time. Sensing another’s chakra was equal parts instinct and training. It didn’t stop her from straining, searching for any little flicker or warmth that was out of place - but she was lucky. Even if she couldn’t rely on herself to pick up on their chakra, there was another huge giveaway that she remembered clearly.

The sun was starting to set when they finally reached it. Kakashi didn’t even pause in the calm pace he was keeping at their point, nose buried in his book, and though he wasn’t bothering to conceal his chakra presence either (a comforting electric tingle) Sakura didn’t feel it even flutter when they walked past the conspicuous puddle.

She’d noticed it the first time too, of course, and unbidden that thought made a bubble of pride swell up in her chest. It had taken her a long time to put her mind to work, but she’d had the makings of a formidable shinobi even back then. This time, she’d use it properly. She’d do better.

Approaching the puddle made the pride curdle into anxiety. Last time, Kakashi had put them to the test and pretended to let the enemy chūnin ‘kill’ him, just to see what his genin would do. Well, that and because Kakashi-sensei had always been willing to let a foe underestimate him. There was an astonishing amount of power in being underestimated; of all his students, Sakura was the only one who’d learned to use that tactic.

Naruto and Sasuke… just hadn’t been able to. With the immeasurable power they’d accumulated by the end, it hadn’t even been an option for them. Next to them, it was only natural that Sakura was always considered weak. In the end, Kakashi had taught her to  _ use _ that, rather than to resent it.

But this version of Kakashi - familiar and completely strange at the same time - was different. She wasn’t sure what he would do. Happy to take advantage of such a situation, if it occurred, but from what Sakura could tell, he didn’t go out of his way to engineer them. His reputation - memorised out of the public records of Konoha-nin - was far more brutal than she remembered it being. Kakashi had always been an extremely dangerous shinobi, and this time it seemed that everybody knew it.

Sakura had wondered to herself, on the nights she spent scouring through her memories and encoding the information held therein, how many encounters they might avoid because of it. There were plenty of instances in which Kakashi had been attacked because his opponent had decided he couldn’t be as dangerous as all his bingo book entries said he was. Would those change, now?

It was a question that had crept under her skin and stayed there, coming back without warning and distracting her. One that wouldn’t leave her alone, that had nagged and nagged. It wasn’t something she really expected an answer to.

Foolish, it turned out, because as Kakashi wandered past the puddle and Sakura came level with it, there was no attack forthcoming. Sakura slowed down a little, even as Kakashi lowered his book and made a show of looking at the sky, and Tazuna came almost level with her. If they were going to ambush them, then now was the moment. Perhaps they’d chosen to spring their trap on Tazuna instead of Kakashi; take out the target, rather than the biggest threat. Less chance of escape, but a much higher chance of success.

Tazuna gave her a little shove, even as she felt the gazes of her teammates settle on her questioningly, so she let herself stumble forward. Forced down the tension in her body, tried to keep herself loose and ready to react.

Sasuke and Hinata came to the puddle and then kept going, and still there was no sign of attack.

And they kept walking, and the puddle stayed right where it was, totally innocent. Further, still further, still walking— Nothing. No attack. Sakura strained her senses, searching for any sign of chakra she didn’t recognise. Thought gave way to reflex and she wove her chakra into her senses, coming to a stop and turning back to scan for movement. At the same time, she thinned out another portion of chakra and let it pulse in all directions, sturdier than the razor thin attempts she’d been practicing.

Kakashi’s presence bounced back first, a surge of white lightning that shot through her, followed by Sasuke (a deep, numbing crackle of electricity) and Hinata (soft and sticky). Tazuna’s, too, what untrained fragility there was of it.

Nothing else.

Her team came to a sharp stop, and in moments Sasuke and Hinata had kunai in hand, stances set back into combat-ready. Hinata went wide-eyed, her gaze skating across Sakura and spinning around them; a moment later she settled on Sakura, where Sasuke was already staring. A flash of pride broke through the confused fear, just for a second. They’d recognised that she was the source of the noticeable chakra disruption.

“Sakura?” Sasuke asked, eyes darting to Kakashi over Sakura’s shoulder and then moving back. “What’s wrong?”

The puddle still hadn’t moved. Nothing suspicious at all aside from its very existence. She couldn’t pick up any unfamiliar chakra signatures.

Slowly, Sakura tore her eyes off it and looked back towards Kakashi. He’d paused, book held loosely at his side, and had turned just enough to stare at her. Silent, but questioning.  _ Why aren’t they attacking? _ The puddle was there, which meant that the Demon Brothers were there. Right there, aware of them - watching,  _ waiting  _ \- but… but not doing anything. Too late now, to spring a surprise trap on them.

How many attacks, she’d wondered, would be averted simply because Kakashi was openly terrifying in this timeline?

“I…” She couldn’t say anything. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t pick out the chakra signatures she knew must be there. And she shouldn’t know about them - she had absolutely no way to justify herself unless they attacked. Unless there was even a  _ trace _ of unfamiliar chakra to grab onto. “I’m… I’m sorry, Sensei. I thought I… saw something.”

Turning her back on the puddle felt like asking to be stabbed in it. Senses strained outward, reaching out to their extent, but there was nothing to find. They kept walking, and nothing happened, and the evening slowly bled into night until Kakashi finally called for a stop. Hinata was sent hunting while Sasuke was given the task of collecting firewood and starting a small fire, and Sakura helped set up what little Kakashi had bothered to bring in a series of storage scrolls.

Not until she’d finished her task and settled against a tree did Kakashi come closer. Leant against her tree and studied Tazuna where he sat by Sasuke, manipulating his chakra into fire. “So.” Faintly sharp. Like she’d done something wrong. Even  _ knowing _ that he was just trying to figure out her motivation, Sakura felt herself wilting. “What was that?”

Sakura sighed. Looked at her hands, and wondered when she’d taken the shuriken she was turning over in them out of her kunai holster. “Kakashi-sensei…” There was no way to tell him the truth without telling him  _ all _ of it. And she couldn’t. Wording it like the young naive self she remembered would just have to do. “That puddle… When was the last time it rained?”

“Hm.” Soft. Sakura glanced up despite herself. Caught Kakashi’s cyclopic gaze. “So you noticed that.”

The first time, he’d been impressed by her observation. Keen senses, sharp logic, for someone so young. Sakura couldn’t see why that would be different, this time, but she couldn’t find it in his expression, didn’t see the little faint twitch of his mask that gave away a pleased smile. “... I don’t understand,” she lied. It tasted like the ashes of her friends. “How did it get there, when it hasn’t rained in weeks?”

Again, Kakashi hummed softly and tipped his head back against the tree. “Any number of ways. It’s good that you thought of our safety first, but not every peculiarity is an attack. Paranoia will only go so far.”  _ You hypocrite. _ It was a fond thought. Sakura knew damn well that he would have had the exact same reaction— that he  _ had _ had the same reaction, even if he was meticulous enough that she hadn’t been able to pick up on it. “You were looking for chakra signatures,” he added, glancing down at her again, and Sakura felt herself go red.

Native response, the bubble of shy anxiety like an afterthought under her skin. It was something she’d realised she would have to tolerate until she trained herself out of it again, the odd self-conscious reactions that seemed to come out no matter how little she really felt them. Squeaks and blushes and glances away, the wringing of her hands or a sigh out of place or the urge to run her hands through the long hair she no longer had.

Frustrated with it, she heaved a sigh. “I couldn’t find any.” And she  _ knew _ that they’d been there, but she couldn’t bring herself to say it. Or even hint it. Kakashi was too smart for that, too relentless. If she pushed at the idea that they’d been in danger of attack - that she  _ knew _ there were enemies stalking their every move - he wouldn’t let it go either. He’d make her tell him.

Sakura was perfectly aware that if she gave too much away, he would pursue it until she told him the rest. She was only human, after all; she would crumble under Kakashi’s manic need to know everything around him. It had always made sense that he was like that, under the carefully constructed facade of ataraxy. Paranoia and suspicion all wrapped up in the carefree front. After studying with Tsunade-sensei, after watching the combined might of every ninja village in the land flow together under the leadership of the five Kages, after seeing how every insecurity and flaw and unbridled primal strength came to the surface of every single one of them while war erupted into chaos and death around them, after Juubi and Obito and the desolate hope of witnessing the Reincarnation Jutsu, after—

_ After, after. _

It was before, now. It was  _ never. _ Her experiences were a barely-there dream adrift in a time that no longer existed. The Fourth Shinobi War had never happened. There was no Allied Shinobi Forces. There was no great peace between them.

There was greed and bloodshed and the woeful inadequacy of serving their village at the expense of all the others, if it came right down to it. There were all the broken jōnin that Sakura thought she knew and the desperate smiles not all of them could force to try and give their genin a hope they’d never had.

There were too few years out of the last massive war, and too few left before the next one.

So Kakashi-sensei made perfect sense, when she deconstructed his personality and behaviour, when she stripped him of personhood and free will and dissected him into motivation and trauma and sheer unmitigated fucking power. If, this time, he hadn’t survived it all quite so intact, if he couldn’t find the will to smile at them and pretend he wasn’t just as damaged as everyone else, then—

Well. Then that was Sakura’s responsibility too.

“Hm. Neither could I.” He sounded reassuring. She didn’t believe him. “It’s early for you three to be on a mission like this, but you aren’t in any danger. Think of this as intense training; you’ll be fine. If you do your best.”

There was no extra emphasis in his voice, as he pushed off the tree and walked away to show Sasuke why the flame wouldn’t hold in the pile of kindling he was working with. Nothing sharp or judgemental or even vaguely upset. For all intents and purposes, it  _ hadn’t _ been a warning. In context, it was something that should have comforted her - if he’d been any other jōnin, if she’d been any other genin.

Instead, it shivered through her and she let her own arms close around her torso in a facsimile of a hug.  _ Gods, _ she missed hugs. The lazy one-armed ones from Tsunade-sensei, given briefly at the end of hard lessons; the gentle reassuring ones shared with Shizune, when a lesson was hard, or when they lost a patient; the painful, ribcage-crushing ones from Naruto that stopped her from breathing. The awkward ones from her parents, who didn’t know how to talk to her anymore - who were just afraid for their daughter’s life and couldn’t understand why self-preservation could never be Sakura’s first priority. The bounce-up-and-down childish squeal-hugs from Ino. She missed the brief and rare hugs from Kakashi-sensei, affection and trepidation in one, shared once in a blue moon.

After all, in the end, she’d been the only one to stay behind at his side, when their team had fallen apart.

Sighing, Sakura let her chin sink to her knees. From any other sensei, to any other genin, it wouldn’t have been a warning. But it was Kakashi-sensei. And it was to her. It  _ was _ a warning; he knew she was holding back. He knew she’d been faking a lack of skill. She thought she’d hidden it better than that.

_ I should have known better. Of course he knows. _

But he was right. Hell, he didn’t even realise how right he was. On missions - even if they weren’t as serious as this - she had absolutely no business pretending to be worse than she was. “... Fuck.” As soft as she could. Kakashi was right, and she couldn’t afford to be holding back; but she couldn’t afford to show the true extent of her skill. She had no excuse for knowing medical ninjutsu out of the Academy. She had no reason to know Tsunade’s signature technique.

She’d already showed that one, of course, but she’d had no control of it then. Hadn’t worked up the chakra weave to properly use it, hadn’t built up the strength and resilience in her body not to hurt herself trying. Still hadn’t, really, but she was confident now that she could use it and not break anything.

Except for her cover. Except for her safety, for having any chance whatsoever to successfully lie to Kakashi-sensei.

The night passed peacefully, as did the entire next day of walking at Tazuna’s excruciatingly slow pace, and again until early afternoon of the day after. Every moment that went by smoothly only tore at Sakura’s nerves more. Why was nothing happening? Where were the assassins, the attacks, the  _ threat? _ There was no way they were getting Tazuna home and fulfilling the mission without incident. She had zero faith in the idea.

Gatō would send assassins after Tazuna; he would never let go of his chokehold on the Land of Waves. He’d have to die first.

Maybe he would. Sakura was about ready to kill someone out of sheer nervous reflex.

But here they were, right on the border, and nothing had yet happened. The Demon Brothers had never manifested, and they’d even come past the site of Zabuza’s original attack. They were approaching the shoreline - about two hours walk away, now, at Tazuna’s pace - and following the river to do it. As much as she knew that the trail following the river was normal, and that it did indeed make the trek easier and safer for civilians, the constant nearby presence of water was making her teeth itch.

Their enemies were Kiri-nin. Water was to their advantage.

Was that why they were waiting? Did Zabuza just feel he needed an extra advantage with which to fight them? But that didn’t make any sense, of course; they’d been on a turn of the river so vast it almost passed as a small lake, the first time they’d been attacked. It was an ideal place for an ambush: a wide stretch of calm water to work with, a large clearing to allow for Zabuza’s destructive fighting style and the enormous sword he carried, but trees enough to use for advantage, and for Haku to watch from.

And yet here they were, walking along the thinnest stretch of the river before it widened out into the sea. Still walking, and everyone else was calm, and Sakura couldn’t figure it out.  _ Where the hell are they? _ Every little twitch in the undergrowth had her jumping, ready to throw a kunai, ready to fight. It was so obvious that Sasuke was paying more attention to her than to their surroundings, and Hinata kept flinching - like Sakura was an explosive tag that could go off at any second.

She was a distraction, and she knew it.

But her paranoia paid off, in the early afternoon, as they reached the part of the river where it widened again, bleeding out into the ocean like a vein carefully cut open. It was so quiet that even Kakashi only paused for a moment in his stride, looking up from his book, and Sasuke and Hinata didn’t react at all. Distant and faint - the vague scrape of metal on metal. Sakura froze, found a kunai in her hand without any conscious decision to draw it, and then she heard it again. Closer.

“Get down.” Snarled at her teammates, spinning around and shifting one foot back, ready to leap over their heads. Now at her back, Kakashi was at their side in half a second, his book replaced with a kunai of his own. Without hesitation, Hinata grabbed Tazuna and tugged him to the ground, taking up a spot on his far side while Sasuke slowly unclipped a shuriken from his holster strap and peered into the thin, scraggly trees that were all that remained this close to the beach.

It was the burn of chakra that warned her next - an outward flood that felt like drowning with her senses so stretched out, a mixture of presences that burst out from nothing and then broke into a quickly rolling fog. Thick whiteness overtook them in seconds, and for a moment all Sakura could feel was blinding, searing panic.

Then her training and experience kicked in, and Sakura took a deep breath of the rapidly cooling air. The panic was still there, a bubbling heat that shivered under her skin, but it wasn’t helpful so she ignored it. What mattered now was focus. Reflex.

Fight.

_ Win. _

“Hinata, Byakugan,” she gave the low order, forgetting about Kakashi’s authority. Rank didn’t matter now that they were in real danger. Sakura wouldn’t give any orders that would get them killed - she trusted her own judgement in that. “Tell me where they are, and how many.”

Hinata’s activation whisper was so quiet even Sakura barely heard it, right next to her.  _ Good. _ Maybe they’d yet keep that as a surprise. “... Four,” came the response, and Hinata’s voice shook with fear.  _ Four. All of them. _ Whatever thoughts she’d had of telling Sasuke to take Tazuna and run evaporated; Kakashi could hold off Zabuza long enough for that to work, and Sakura and Hinata together could hold of Haku - but with the Demon Brothers there too, they just couldn’t turn their backs. The best bet of survival (and completing the mission) was to hunker down and defend themselves.

“Sasuke, Sakura. You’re going to take Tazuna and—”

“No.” Hissed back, and met with absolute silence as everyone registered Sakura outright defying orders. “Sensei, they’re too strong.” Even as Sakura wondered why Kakashi would make such a mistake, the answer presented itself: he didn’t know how powerful their foes were. Not exactly his fault - if Tazuna had been honest, then maybe he’d have expected the calibre of the shinobi they were up against, but he hadn’t. Kakashi was underestimating them. “We have to fight. If we run, we die.”

Kakashi didn’t  _ look _ at her, but she felt the flash of his focus and tried to ignore it. Peering out into the artificial mist didn’t reveal anything, but she kept trying anyway. “One of them is about to attack,” Hinata intoned, quiet but strained. “On you, Sensei.”

“Okay. Protect Tazuna. If you identify them, sing out.”

For a moment longer, there was just the mist and the thick feeling of terror in the air. Hinata was breathing through her open mouth, eyes wide, the pulse of her chakra like static around them.

Movement came in the form of tiny splashes - feet across the surface of the river - and then the faint whistling downswing of a sharpened edge. The fog parted, and then there was the vicious  _ clang _ of metal on metal and Kakashi let out a low noise of effort. Sakura caught a glimpse of Zabuza, his monstrous sword cutting into Kakashi’s kunai; one hand braced against the other, and then he shoved back. Zabuza stumbled. Just as Kakashi whipped up his hitai-ite and revealed his Sharingan - he’d recognised the threat, good - there was another scraping clanging sound and Sakura grabbed Tazuna by the shirt and leapt backwards, yanking him along.

Hinata was already moving sideways, while Sasuke took the cue; he was a fraction of a second behind them, and a fraction of a second too slow. The first of the Demon Brothers -  _ What are their names? I don’t remember their names _ \- landed right where Sasuke had been, and lashed out. His brother was right behind him, jumping further, trying to catch Sasuke in the jagged chain that linked their gauntlets together. He dropped to the ground, there was a crackle of pale blue lightning, and he hurled his shuriken.

The impact against the chain snapped and discharged. Both Kiri-nin let out shouts of pain as the chain was dragged into the ground and pinned by the shuriken, yanking them back. Stunned by the shock of lightning chakra, they fell easily. Sasuke was already charging the second shuriken with chakra, twisting back further. With a series of clicks, the chain disengaged - the Brothers lunged after him, snarling, gauntlets flashing.

Sakura dove past Tazuna and tackled one of them. It was a sloppy and risky attack, but she threw her whole meagre body into it and they went tumbling past Hinata and across the rough ground. Stones and whatever else was lying around snagged on Sakura’s skin and clothes, but she ignored the sting of it - got both hands around the enemy’s gauntlet and shoved it away, forcing chakra through her arms to overpower the bigger and heavier shinobi. There was poison in those metal claws, and Sakura had no desire to risk being dosed with it despite the knowledge that the Demon Brothers carried its antidote.

With several bursts of chakra, Sakura came out on top, holding the gauntlet at arm’s length. Her position was precarious, balanced on her enemy’s chest with both hands occupied, and zero points at which she was actually pinning him. If he’d simply tried to buck her off, she’d have gone flying.

As it turned out, he was an idiot.

His free hand flexed into a half-seal and his chakra spiked like the cracking of ice when she walked too far onto a frozen lake. Her own surged in response, and the dark mask that concealed his mouth twitched with movement; even as Sakura’s thoughts spun out into what possible jutsu he could be using with only one hand, and reviewed her internal arsenal in response, reflex was already kicking in. Sakura let go of the gauntlet with one hand, curled her fingers into a fist, and slammed down in his face with as much chakra as she dared.

Thin spirals, like knuckle dusters, and Sakura felt her chakra coil and backflow along the filaments she’d been building into every inch of muscle she had. A moment later the Kiri-nin’s face imploded around her fist; blood and bone splintered and sprayed out in every direction, the mask shredded. Slivers of bone pierced Sakura’s skin, but she could deal with that later - macerated by the controlled chakra spill, his brain turned to fluid that seeped out onto the ground, even as the ground itself cracked into pieces. In her other hand, the Kiri-nin’s gauntlet turned heavy and slipped from her grip. The  **thud** as it slammed into the ground drew attention.

There was no time to think about it; she could worry later. Right now, Kakashi and Zabuza were clashing while Hinata fought the other Demon Brother, and Sasuke was staring at her in abject horror and completely oblivious to where Haku hung back beyond them, watching. Waiting. They’d waited the first time, for some reason, and played off their presence as a Hunter-nin after Zabuza - but they had already revealed themself, this time, and so clearly had no intention of lying.

Maybe it was Hinata’s presence. Maybe they knew that Tazuna’s protection team had a Hyuuga on the roster. Maybe it didn’t matter - now Haku was someone they had to deal with, and they were fucking formidable.

Whatever came next, she couldn’t let them get on top of her teammates; they were just genin. They were  _ so young. _ They’d die. “Help Hinata!” Given in a rush of air, snapped out as Sakura scrambled off the shinobi she’d killed and shot across the battlefield towards Haku. Kakashi flew past her, thrown back by Zabuza, but she just ducked and trusted him to handle it - she had to trust him. Kakashi-sensei was one of the strongest people she’d ever known, and getting involved would only put them both at risk.

A flash of chakra told her that Sasuke had heeded her order, had turned and jumped in to help Hinata defeat the second Demon Brother, so Sakura kept her eyes on Haku. Behind her, Zabuza growled something, and Kakashi snapped back, but the words washed over her meaninglessly. Haku watched her approach with liquid brown eyes - the Hunter-nin mask abandoned somewhere along the way - and remained motionless, even as she got close.

_ What are you—? _

Haku turned at the last second, and slender fingers curled around her wrist as her strike went wide. She was already twisting, trying to sweep Haku’s legs out from under them, but they’d seen how she’d dealt with whichever Demon Brother was now dead and they knew what her aim was - they rotated with her, jumped into the air to flip over her head, and used that momentum to hurl her downwards. Sakura crashed into the ground, rolled sideways, saw the pair of shuriken sink into the dirt barely a centimetre away from her face.

There was a moment of silence. Haku landed only several paces away, delicate and fluid on their feet, and tilted their head. Dark hair spilled loose over their shoulder. “You’ve got potential,” they said, stepping closer and offering Sakura a hand up. “It’s a shame that you stand against us.”

She couldn’t help the snarl that tore out of her, but she controlled the urge to slap Haku’s hand away. Got to her feet, unblinking, and took half a step back from them. Didn’t waste the breath on coming up with a reply - Haku could afford to banter, to taunt her, but if she took her focus off fighting them, then she was screwed. Coiling, Sakura took a deep breath, set her feet, and punched.

Haku sidestepped, a strange half-smile half-frown on their face, and shook their head. “You’re not fast enough to—” The chakra Sakura had thrown into the attack in razor thin sheets made Haku’s hair whip up in whirls, and the controlled narrowed blades sent strands of brown fluttering to the ground, severed. Cuts opened up across Haku’s face; a second later they were followed by sheer surprise. “Oh, my.” But they were already jumping back as Sakura lunged, trying to get a hold of them.

Any grip would do. What Sakura lacked in speed or variety, she made up for in spades with strength; if she could just get a hold of them, she could pin them down and force their surrender. It wouldn’t do Kakashi-sensei any good with Zabuza - he didn’t care if Haku died for him or not - but it would free up Sasuke and Hinata to help him.

Spinning and darting back across the river, Haku tossed their hair out of their face, ignored the blood dripping down their skin, and brought their hands together, even as Sakura gave chase. Seals that she didn’t even recognise. Only one thing that could mean.  _ Shit, shit. Move, Sakura! _ She was too slow on evading, heard the rush of water on all sides, and then her back collided with something cold and solid. Too dangerous to take her eyes off Haku, even as their chakra erupted on all sides and the ice coalesced into shimmering mirrors.  _ They’re pulling this out already? _

There was none of the hesitation she remembered - Zabuza’s orders to hold back seemed not to be in effect. This attack wasn’t a test, wasn’t a scout. They weren’t here to test Tazuna’s defence and come back later if need be; they were just here to kill everyone involved. Panic sheared through her chest.

They weren’t prepared. None of them were prepared, and Kakashi could keep up with Zabuza but he wasn’t vastly superior. Not yet. He wouldn’t even figure out how to safely use Kamui for another year or so, if Sakura was remembering correctly, if everything wasn’t too far different.

Zabuza could win. Here, today, they might all die.

“Sakura!” was the only warning she got, a shout in Sasuke’s voice - and then there was heat and chakra awash around her, and Haku formed a series of one-handed seals, eyes narrowing angrily. “Sakura, move!”

It might as well have been a puppet jutsu, for how the command sank through her skin and jolted her into action. The inside of her head felt like silence as she watched herself turn, pull back a fist and charge with chakra, and then slam her knuckles into the ice mirror at her back with as much force as she could muster. Weakened by Sasuke’s fireball, it cracked, held a moment, and then shattered.

Sasuke grabbed her arm and yanked, and she stumbled on the shifting river surface - held up only by his grip before she managed to catch her feet, and then trying to push him further back. Haku was still working, they were still fighting, whatever they’d been doing with the flash of handsigns was still—

Somehow, sprinting, Hinata went past them in a blur. A second later, there was a shrill cry and a wash of chakra that tasted like lavender against Sakura’s senses, and she watched thin needles of ice splash back into the river and melt. Whimpering, Hinata fell back into Sakura’s arms; delicate fingers plucked another needle from pale flesh, and then it turned into fluid and evaporating chakra against her skin.  _ Shit. _

Haku was already moving, weaving seals to make their ice mirrors spin and rotate and slide through the air towards them, getting ready to trap them again. “One of us needs to help Kakashi,” Sakura hissed as she helped Hinata find her feet and then got to work pulling the needles out of her. Less than she’d feared; the cloud of chakra Hinata had pushed out from every tenketsu in her body had deflected most of them. “Now!”

There was reluctance in his expression, but not in his movement as Sasuke pulled back from them. “I got it.” And then he was gone, sprinting across the river towards their sensei. Haku turned their head to track him, and fear jolted Sakura back into action. No matter what, she couldn’t let Haku chase Sasuke down.

A pulse of chakra through her feet and Sakura was pouncing towards the narrow Kiri-nin, sailing through the gap in their mirrors and trying to wind her chakra through the coils built up in her body. Actually  _ beating _ Haku was unlikely at best, but all they had to do was hold out until Kakashi and Sasuke beat Zabuza. Surely, together, they could do it.  _ They have to do it. One of us does. We can’t lose here. _

Even as Hinata threw herself into the fight on Sakura’s heels, and Haku spun away to avoid her attack, weaving signs to replace the shattered mirror and then melting into one of them, Sakura felt something unbearably cold seep out under her skin.  _ We can’t die here. _ There was so much left to do,  **so much** that still threatened the world, that Sakura had to find and deal with, so much left to save. All the things that needed doing, tracking down Naruto and preventing the widespread damage of Suna’s attack during the upcoming Exams and the—

_ Everything _ she had left to stop, and she’d let herself walk up to Wave Country and risk her life on a meaningless little mission that she could have prevented, if only she hadn’t been so afraid to open her mouth.  _ I could have stopped this. I could have made this easy. _ A properly informed team of Konoha jōnin could have completed this mission easily.

Instead, Kakashi was going to have to give this fight everything he had and there was no alternative to his genin risking their lives. She could have prevented this. If she wasn’t so scared of losing her own personal freedom.

Maybe she’d be better off in the Anbu vault, giving up all the secrets of the future she carried with her.

_ “Sakura!!” _

There was impact, the breath knocked out of her, and then there was stinging blindness and wet on all sides and she couldn’t  _ breathe _ and arms around her— Sakura’s head broke the surface of the river and she gasped in air and water droplets together. Ringing in her ears. Hands clamped hard on her shoulders, and pale white eyes wide with fear and chakra met hers. “Sakura, what do we do?”

They were treading water, and around them Haku’s mirrors closed in and tightened, narrowing the space they had to move. Sheets of ice shone over their heads in the sunlight, trapping them. Chakra sticking at her hands, Sakura pulled herself out of the water and crouched low on the surface, and pulled Hinata out too.

She could have prevented this, but it was too late now. If she dwelt on that, she’d only get them killed  _ now. _ So instead, she glanced up and searched for Haku’s image in the mirrors, and found it reflected on all sides. She was so fucking lucky to have the Byakugan on her side.

“We fight.”

* * *

There was thunder humming in every inch of his body as he left his kunoichi teammates behind, but Sasuke forced himself not to look back. Thinking about it would only get them killed; he couldn’t afford to worry about Hinata or the wound she’d sustained while taking down the Kiri-nin with the gauntlet. He couldn’t dwell on the bloodstains on Sakura’s body that betrayed how she’d murdered the other gauntleted shinobi without a moment of hesitation. He couldn’t fear the strange ice jutsu he was leaving them in, or the enormous sword that he was throwing himself towards.

The thunder was distracting, a nagging feeling that he couldn’t make himself forget - a drum that wouldn’t stop pounding against the inside of his chest. Adrenaline, or fear. Maybe it was both.

Maybe it didn’t matter.

Kakashi-sensei and the Kiri-nin fighting him were standing off, as Sasuke ran towards them; the stranger was standing straight, eyes narrowed as he wove handsigns with a racing fluidity that Sasuke couldn’t quite follow, and opposite him Kakashi was half-crouched, ready to dodge or attack at a moment’s notice. Hitai-ite up, Kakashi stared at his enemy, unblinking, and the Sharingan shone red with the mirrored seals.

_ Dog, Snake, Monkey, Bird, Dog, Dragon, Ram, Ox, Tiger, Hare, Dog… _ Sasuke had already lost track of the signs as they formed, instead trying to just keep count of them as he sidled around, trying to get behind their foe. Thirteen, sixteen, twenty. Holy fuck. Whatever jutsu it was that they were casting, it was a powerful one.

But it wouldn’t matter if Sasuke stopped him from casting it. Ignoring their seals in favour of his own, he mentally lined up his goal, felt his chakra bubble and heat as he prepared the fire release.  _ Don’t think about Sakura. _ Don’t think about the shattered skull and spray of blood. Death was inevitable - all shinobi had to kill, sometimes. It didn’t matter. It wasn’t wrong.

He saw it in the flit of panic across Kakashi’s face before he saw it in their enemy’s movements. A flash, like cold static, and Sasuke thought - very clearly - that he needed to stop and run. It was too late, like watching an accident happen, momentum carrying him towards a goal he should have abandoned. There was a feeling like the wind as the Kiri-nin let the attempted jutsu fizzle out and his chakra billowed in response, and then Kakashi’s chakra chased it away, a burst of white-hot electricity and the feeling of fingers closing around his neck.

_ “Sasuke!” _

Kakashi’s voice was an echo in the back of his mind as his feet left the ground, and fear turned to a desperate burning in his chest.  _ No, no. _ Kicking blindly, Sasuke reached up and pulled at the Kiri-nin’s hand on his throat, gasping and choking; his vision flickered, the fog on all sides suddenly seeming darker. Not oxygen deprivation, some tiny distant thought said softly. Too soon for it to be strangulation. Pressure squeezed tighter on either side of his neck, and Sasuke kicked out again - felt his foot connect with something solid and unyielding - heard a bark of laughter like howling in his ears.

_ Stop flailing. _ He had to focus, he had to do something to get free, and damn the panic. Closing his eyes, Sasuke forced himself to stop scrabbling at the (much (much)) bigger shinobi’s curled fingers and reached down, grasping for a kunai. He had at least one left in his holster, right?

Of course he did. He’d brought…

He couldn’t remember how many.

_ Fuck. _

Sasuke’s fingertips touched cool metal, and something spiked in his chest like a flame, but the hand at his throat was only getting tigh—

Looser.

_ Gone. _

He fell to the ground and collapsed in a pile of heaving gasps, felt himself reach up one of his own hands to his neck, as if he could undo the bruising that was sure to form.  _ I don’t have time. _ Forcing his eyes open, Sasuke looked up to take stock of their enemy, of where Kakashi was - and watched his sensei sail through the air and slam into one of the scraggly trees that lined the coast. It snapped with the sound of bones breaking, and Kakashi tumbled to the ground. He was getting up a moment later, a faint snarl barely audible as he did, but he was favouring his right shoulder as he did, arm tucked into his torso.

Chakra buzzed at Sasuke’s back, and he moved without conscious thought. Shot away from it and towards Kakashi, scrambling to get back on his feet and fight down the fluttering panic. He couldn’t think about the near misses - couldn’t think about the possibility of failure.  _ Death. _

Stop.

“Sasuke. I need you to distract him.” Kakashi’s voice was low, his gaze fixed on their enemy while he spoke. They only had a moment - the Kiri-nin was hefting his monstrous sword, laying the flat of it across his own shoulders. “It might mean he’ll hurt you.” There was something molten in his voice as he said it. Something dark. “But I won’t let him kill you. Trust me.”

_ Trust you? _

Like a flashbang, the last six months went through his mind. All the times Kakashi had deliberately fucked them over, every time Sasuke had wanted to punch him in his smug fucking face because he’d known exactly the thing to say - ever so softly - to tear Sasuke’s confidence apart. The moments of quiet affirmation that were all Sasuke needed to get it back. The fierce joy of mastering everything Kakashi-sensei had thus far tried to teach them.

Trust him?

“Okay.”

Pulling out the small storage scroll, Sasuke withdrew two more of his chakra metal shuriken. The Kiri-nin was coming at them, spooling his speed into the sword as it lifted and then arced; ready to slice them clean in half if it hit. Easy to avoid, darting off to the side while Kakashi sidestepped and deflected. The sword sank half a metre into the soft ground, quivering at an angle, and the Kiri-nin let go of it to lunge at Kakashi. They met, twirled around the sword, and Sasuke watched them dance while he tried to track how the enemy moved.

A pattern showed itself in the way he struck out with his right leg, the same spin twice in a row, following an open-handed strike and led with the knee, instead of the foot.  _ Okay. _ Kakashi dodged back, deflecting an open strike - and Sasuke aimed, sent a surge of chakra into his shuriken, and threw.

The star connected, and the Kiri-nin went down in a jolt of lightning and a snarl. Kakashi leapt back, and Sasuke caught the motion of handsigns, but he kept his gaze on the Kiri-nin and dove in after him. For a split second, he wanted to tag the shuriken still stuck into their enemy’s leg and send another wave of lightning through it, but Sasuke abandoned the thought almost as soon as he had it. The Kiri-nin spun and lashed out, and Sasuke barely managed to duck underneath the attack. Darted in and struck at his ribs and darted right back out, and he couldn’t parse the split control he’d need to make a chakra-assisted jump while also channeling chakra into his fourth shuriken, but he twisted and threw it at the Kiri-nin, trying to keep his focus.

“Hey!” Shouted at the top of his lungs, and he prayed that it didn’t distract Sakura or Hinata from their fight, but he had one task and he’d use whatever means he needed to accomplish it. The Kiri-nin caught the last shuriken, rose to his feet while yanking it out of his hand and then tearing out the one in his leg. Blood dripped. “Fuck you,” Sasuke added, refusing to look past the Kiri-nin to Kakashi.

White lightning surged, and the sound of a thousand chirping birds filled the air. Kakashi was cradling a fistful of lightning in his left hand. The Kiri-nin rotated, and Sasuke reacted; this time, there was no frantic panic fluttering under his skin, no savage desperation that fuelled his speed.

This time, everything seemed to move like silk. He had a task. All he had to do was execute.

Launching himself at the Kiri-nin, Sasuke yanked out the kunai he’d felt for earlier and held it in a tight reverse grip. Shouted again - he wasn’t even certain what he said, this time, while Kakashi closed in their impromptu pincer attack, but the Kiri-nin turned back to look at him. Victory tasted like acid in the back of his throat.

The Kiri-nin ducked. As if in slow motion, Sasuke found himself twisting, watched the Kiri-nin’s eyes narrow in a half-hidden sneer, felt the unfamiliar fingers close around his arm. There was an odd pressure in his eyes as the velvet certainty morphed back into terror and exploded in his stomach. Nausea boiled underneath it.

Opposite him, the screeching lightning held steady at his side, Kakashi went wide-eyed and tried to correct - there was a shimmering billow that splashed out at Kakashi’s feet, and that singing electricity came so close, and the pressure in Sasuke’s eyes turned to pain for a split second, as he realised he couldn’t break free of the Kiri-nin’s grip, as Kakashi came centimetres away from sinking his jutsu into Sasuke’s shoulder.

The chakra shone as Kakashi went by, like a white afterimage, and just for a moment Sasuke met his mismatched eyes. Something grim and feral looked back. Everything was too slow, too bright - movement all around him gleamed with ethereal red outlines, like echoes. Not pain anymore, and the pressure morphed into a liquid heat in his eyes.

Kakashi landed and skidded back, holding the lightning, and the Kiri-nin was moving like he was going to throw Sasuke after him. Intent read like flowing ink, and Sasuke swapped the grip on his kunai, felt the speed of it, saw the exact spot at where he should strike.

_ Oh. _

He should feel elation. Joy. Pride.  _ It doesn’t matter. _ He couldn’t bring himself to be happy. The sensation was wet and warm and distracting, and everything was too sharp, a red-lined clarity that might as well have been a cutting edge in his skin. Too bright. Too slow. It didn’t matter. The Kiri-nin was still fighting, getting back to his feet, and they still had to defeat him.

_ Focus. _

**_Use it._ **

So their enemy rose, trapped between their Sharingan eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stuff and Things:  
>  | I can’t stop thinking about the fact Sakura is the only one who stayed behind when Team Seven went to shit. Kakashi is her fucking dad and y’all can FIGHT ME on that.  
>  | Look, I know canon says ‘he’ for Haku, but Kishimoto is a fucking coward and Haku is an enby icon.  
>  | So, I realise that my description of chakra senses and whatnot is a bit scattered and all over the place. This is mostly because I personally think of a shinobi’s ability to detect, identify, and trace chakra is less of an extension of the senses you and I are familiar with and more of a completely separate sense that we can’t fully comprehend and don’t have the words for in our languages - largely because it’s not a sense that _exists_ in our world. As a consequence, my written descriptions of that sense tend to get a bit abstract and dip into the senses we _do_ understand in a vague attempt to get across an at least somewhat relatable lie about how it really functions.  
>  | If that previous paragraph actually made sense to you, kudos, because I ended up rambling like a madman.  
>  | I rewatched Haku’s original fight with Sasuke and Naruto for the purposes of keeping track of their fucking jutsu and personality (sort of) and I just… _Why are Kakashi and Zabuza - two extremely powerful elite shinobi with huge kill-counts under their belts, one of whom is responsible for the continued safety of THREE GENIN - just **standing there listening to Haku fucking MONOLOGUE?**_ I love these characters to pieces, I really do, but gods I fucking hate this anime.
> 
> Next chapter due: **7th May 2020**


	9. Of the Wounds of War, and the Scars of Surviving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is no glory in violence, and no victory in survival.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter carries a trigger warning for self-harm and referenced suicide, as well as violence.

There was a moment at the start of every battle, Kakashi had learned, where the whole world stood still.

The bare fact that he was fighting Momochi Zabuza, the Demon of the Hidden Mist, was frightening but manageable. Kakashi had fought others who were his equal before and triumphed – it wouldn’t be an easy fight, but he could come out of it victorious. That their client, Tazuna, was apparently a bald-faced liar provoked a quiet, deadly anger that would have to wait until all their lives weren’t in danger; that he was under threat from shinobi of this calibre would have required a minimum of A-ranking, and with lethal combat on the table, Kakashi would have expected an S. Even that Sakura had taken charge, defied him, and killed one of their enemies without any seeming hesitation was an issue that currently sat very far down Kakashi’s to-do list. Even that he was burning through chakra like wildfire, even that Sasuke stood opposite him with red eyes and an ashen face, even that he could handle. 

But that he’d been forced to use his students – three _twelve year old genin_ – in combat as if they were experienced fighters, as if they had even the slightest clue of what they were doing, on their _first mission—_

Fate may as well have dragged a kunai across his wrists itself. No matter what he might think of them personally, he was their leader, their teacher. He was responsible for their safety.

And it was their safety that he was being forced to sacrifice in order to get a chance at victory. Sasuke, even with newly awakened Sharingan – _especially_ with newly awakened Sharingan – was little more than bait against Zabuza. Across the path, trapped on the surface of the river, Hinata and Sakura fought a jutsu of polished ice and immense speed, and Kakashi couldn’t turn his back to save them without Zabuza putting his sword in it.

If Kakashi went down, his students would all follow.

Hidden behind his mask, Kakashi bared his teeth and let his breath hiss out; under the shrill of his Chidori in hand, it might as well have been silent. Zabuza was getting to his feet. They were too close to his sword, too close to get in fast enough to stop him from wrenching it out of the ground without risking himself – and, as already proven, Zabuza wouldn’t hesitate to use them against each other. Kakashi could still feel the cold creeping out under his skin, a prickling reminder of how Sasuke’s bones would have felt crumbling around his hand. Of how close they’d been.

 _Fuck._ Enough of this. Zabuza had to die.

It was reckless, but Kakashi launched himself at the Kiri-nin as he yanked on the sword. Kubikiribōchō, if Kakashi was remembering the Seven Swords correctly. The Executioner’s Blade. There was no need to _jump_ at him – letting his feet leave the ground just left Kakashi dedicated to a specific momentum and direction without any good chance to react. He had the option of chakra expulsions, of course, but he didn’t have the chakra to spare, and if he made himself vulnerable then he made himself dead.

On Zabuza’s other side, Sasuke’s eyes went wide as he tracked the movement; the kid was already plenty fast, so it was unlikely to be the speed at which Kakashi went on the offensive that had caught him off guard, even with the Chidori lightning crackling through him. With a flicker of chakra, Kubikiribōchō came up to meet Kakashi’s attack.

Pain erupted as Kakashi’s hand met the flat of the blade, but he didn’t pull back. A reluctant attack wasn’t worth making, so he focused the power of the Chidori as narrowly as he could, white electricity flashing and searing into what almost became a blade in its own right.

There was a metallic _crack._

The resistance broke, and Kakashi cut off chakra flow as he went tumbling forward, tucked his head and landed shoulder first. Shudders went through him as he impacted the soft ground and rolled. Behind him, a vicious laugh rose into the air and Sasuke’s chakra signature rotated closer around it. “Sensei—” he began, only to be cut off as Zabuza changed his grip on the sword and swung at them. The faint whistle of its edge shrilled higher than before, a warning in an uneven whine.

Blocking was out of the question; from the feel of it, he’d cracked at least one bone in his right hand, and the concentrated Chidori had scorched the fabric of his glove. He was fairly certain that its metal plate had been branded into the back of his hand. _Problems for later._ Lashing out with his other hand, Kakashi knocked Sasuke to the ground and let himself drop at his side. Zabuza’s sword sailed over their heads. The end of it was shorn off, an uneven break that angled back towards the pommel and left only a narrow sliver of the decapitation circle.

On reflection, using a Chidori to split one of the Seven Swords was probably a stupid idea. Let alone the one blade that would self-repair the moment it cut them. At least Kakashi had cut down the sheer weight Zabuza could throw at them, and almost halved his reach.

“Get behind him.” It was almost hissed, but Kakashi rolled away from Sasuke and sprang to his feet. Sasuke was scrambling, but Kakashi couldn’t pause to help him. Getting in between him and Zabuza mattered more, keeping the Kiri-nin’s attention. Still reckless, lunging at Zabuza again, but risking himself was better than leaving his genin vulnerable.

Never mind that two of them were already fighting for their lives, all on their own.

The kunai still felt inadequate in his palm as he clashed with the damaged sword, and Kakashi felt the grind of his teeth as he pushed back. _Goddamn it._ Rarely did he ever miss having a sword of his own at his back, but he’d have happily killed a man for one now. He could feel the give of it, of the edge of Zabuza’s sword as it pressed into the kunai, as the black metal compressed and failed under the force of Kakashi’s strength pitted against his enemy’s.

Involuntarily – and irreversible – Kakashi took a step back. Zabuza stepped after him. There was gleeful madness shining in his narrow eyes, something that Kakashi recognised and wished desperately that he didn’t. _Ignore it._ If he thought about it, it would take his breath away.

Letting Zabuza gain ground, Kakashi ducked sideways and spun the force away. Too much skill to stumble, but Zabuza still went forward another step as Kakashi withdrew all resistance, and it was enough to lash out as he slipped past, enough to tear out a low noise of pain even as Zabuza adjusted his grip on the sword and the kunai sank into his flesh. He let go of the kunai where it stuck in Zabuza’s shoulder and spun away again. _Focus on me._ He had to hold Zabuza’s attention; if it strayed to Sasuke then the genin was as good as dead.

Sasuke was trying to creep around behind Zabuza, as instructed, red eyes wide and unblinking. Determination on his face, diluted with an all too familiar bravado. New Sharingan, sensory overload. Unimaginable tumbling confidence. It was hard to resist even in the best of circumstances – and the Uchihas never awoke their Sharingan in the best of circumstances.

Handsigns wove, as Kakashi ducked under a sword swing and darted in closer. The sword’s reach was an advantage – in most cases – but it was heavy and cumbersome, and if Kakashi kept in close then Zabuza would have to abandon it. A jab into Zabuza’s stomach, as he let go of the sword hilt and diverted the attack; his other hand came up and struck out for Kakashi’s face. Leaning to the side was enough to dodge, but there was the telltale flare of Sasuke’s chakra and a whispered activation phrase, and Kakashi turned and grabbed Zabuza’s wrist. Yanked as hard as he could without chakra supplementing and kicked out at the same time. If he could ground Zabuza, he could offer Sasuke an easy target.

The fireball blew past them as Zabuza let himself be tumbled, flipping back up to his feet a moment later. The smell of scorched air erupted around them, even as Sasuke cut his chakra flow and the fire consumed itself; with the sword out of Zabuza’s grasp, now was the best time to strike. Kakashi leapt after him, knocking them both to the ground.

They rolled. Even before they came to a stop, Kakashi could feel himself losing the contest of strength, so as thinly as possible he unwound threads of chakra and forced them into his limbs. By the time he came out on top, Sasuke was already running towards them, kunai in hand.

Kakashi’s stomach lurched. _Now is not the time._ “Cut his throat.” He gave the order despite how it tasted like ozone and ashes on his tongue. Too young – _they’re too young._ It shouldn’t even matter. They were shinobi, and shinobi killed when it was required of them, no matter how young they were. It certainly hadn’t mattered when Kakashi had been their age. Younger.

And still, he felt like a traitor all over again as he told Sasuke to take a life.

Sasuke skidded to a halt beside them, dropped to one knee and held out his kunai. His hands were shaking. If Kakashi could have spared a hand to do the deed himself, he would have – but pinning Zabuza down was a task he couldn’t afford to give any slack. The steady chakra drain of fighting his resistance was bad enough without loosening his grip.

“Sensei—”

Sasuke hesitated.

With a jagged noise that fell somewhere between a laugh and a snarl, Zabuza bucked wildly and rolled as it dislodged Kakashi from his pin. His chakra presence flared up, like lukewarm blood oozing under Kakashi’s skin. In a moment, Zabuza had thrown him off and vaulted to his feet, sending Sasuke scrambling back from him. Catching himself on all fours, Kakashi ignored the twinge that told him he’d landed wrong and lunged back at Zabuza to herd him away from where Kubikiribōchō lay on the ground.

Zabuza rotated and caught the attack. There was almost no conscious thought in Kakashi’s actions as he sparred the Kiri-nin away from the sword, all reflex and instinct, both honed to utmost precision over the years and all the better for the flash and flicker of his ~~stolen~~ borrowed Sharingan eye. Perhaps the only useful thing to come out of them all. Instead, Kakashi let his focus fall on Sasuke, watching them fight with wide red eyes and a twisted expression. Failure.

_My failure. Not yours._

But it had to wait until later; Kakashi folded the guilt away into the back of his mind and let it be. Right now he had to focus on beating the Demon of the Mist – easily his equal. If he didn’t, his genin would die. _It’s inevitable._ He shoved that aside. Even if there was no escaping it, it didn’t have to be _today._ Turning aside a haymaker – _he favours heavy attacks_ – Kakashi flashed a field signal at Sasuke and watched for a response. Sasuke’s eyes narrowed, catching the motion as deliberate, but then they flicked up to Kakashi’s face as a shimmer of panic overtook the guilt.

 _Fuck._ What in the hell did the Academy teach them if not even the basics of Konoha field signals? Maybe that was unfair. It had been years since Kakashi had needed to think about such things, but maybe he hadn’t learned them in the Academy either. Not that it said much; he knew his experience of the Academy was far from typical, and even more so with the way the war had forced everyone to streamline training and churn out new shinobi soldiers as quickly as possible.

But unfair criticism or not, it meant that to give Sasuke any orders at all, he had to say them aloud. Anything he said aloud gave Zabuza the advantage of preparation. _Shit._ Catching a blow against his forearms sent Kakashi staggering back, hissing behind his mask. _Fuck, fuck._ He was running out of chakra. Zabuza was physically stronger than him, and he couldn’t afford to waste chakra on artificially enhancing his melee attacks, but if he let the fight drag on much longer then the drain of his Sharingan would be enough to put him down. Fancy plans were possible but too risky. A close-range fireball from Sasuke would catch Kakashi as well, and while he’d be willing to take the hit in order to protect them, there was still the issue of the mirror-summoning shinobi. A jutsu Kakashi had never seen and couldn’t figure out despite having caught it in his peripheral vision: a Kekkei Genkai.

So they had to hit Zabuza hard, they had to hit him fast, and they had to be on their feet afterwards.

 _It’s a bad idea._ Even the thought of it made him nauseous. He’d already done too much with it – nearly taken out Sasuke’s shoulder with a misplaced Chidori and ruined his career, if not worse. Sasuke was at least capable of it, what with the Sharingan to control it, and slightly more protected than most with a lightning affinity already, but he’d still suffer severe consequences if he made a mistake.

It was too dangerous. It was _irresponsible._

It was the best idea he had.

But still, he couldn’t—

A shrill cry rippled out across the battlefield, jolting Kakashi out of his thoughts. Cold swept through him, breath suddenly an icy cloud in his chest. _“Hinata!”_ came only a second later, Sakura’s slightly lower voice. A flare of chakra, Sakura’s, fluttering spidersilk against his skin. Then, a shout, and the sound of something cracking. An unfamiliar voice that spoke so softly that Kakashi couldn’t pick out the words.

There was no more time to hesitate. He was risking Sasuke’s life – _I promise I won’t let you die_ – and it was a lie, it was an unforgivable deceit, but if he didn’t he was leaving his kunoichi to fight and die without him. No good choices.

Never any good choices. Just blood.

“Copy me, Sasuke,” Kakashi barked sharply, jumping away from Zabuza for a brief respite. Zabuza held off a beat, analysing, looking back at Sasuke, deciding on his own plan of attack. Hands raised in a mirror image of Kakashi’s movements, Sasuke didn’t even glance away. _This is a bad idea. You’re going to get him killed. This is a bad idea._ Recognition darkened in their enemy’s eyes as Kakashi ran through the signs and then braced, but the lightning was already crackling to life in Kakashi’s hands and getting close to try and prevent it was a death sentence.

At Zabuza’s back, Sasuke bared his teeth in a pained grimace as chakra sparked into a flare of pale blue electricity.

Not braced properly, and held badly, but still a Chidori.

Ironically enough, with a very low moulding demand and no activation phrase, Kakashi’s Chidori was one of the easiest ninjutsu to copy with a Sharingan. One of the most dangerous, but simple at its core.

Sasuke stumbled, and Kakashi’s gaze went back to Zabuza. The Kiri-nin was moving between them, aiming for Kubikiribōchō. Shifting his stance, Kakashi leant forward slightly and picked his angle of attack. “With me!” Barked, again, and then a pause as Sasuke mimicked his position.

They took off together.

Chakra crackling through them, Zabuza had only seconds to react – twisting sideways, trying to narrow their target and flexing like he might try to grab them out of the air. A shout from the river, and Kakashi didn’t recognise the voice but it didn’t matter because he and Sasuke were closing in, everything slowing down. Kakashi’s heart was an irregular rhythm against his chest; somebody else’s fingers tapping on his ribs like piano keys.

There was a moment, as a rush of shimmering velvet chakra rippled past them, where everything seemed to stand still.

Zabuza’s teammate resolved in his place. _Fast. Too fast._ Several voices rose around them, and a split second later Kakashi felt his Chidori sink into a body. Blood vaporised as it spilled and the smell of searing flesh filled the air. Only the experience of a thousand times before kept Kakashi from gagging on it.

The unknown shinobi didn't scream, to their credit, as Kakashi’s hand impaled their shoulder, nor as on the other side, Sasuke’s pierced their thigh. They whimpered, and their expression twisted into pain. Sasuke released his Chidori and staggered back, eyes wide and face white, holding his hand away from his body. _I'm sorry, Sasuke._ Too soon for them to taste true combat. All too soon for them to learn that there was no glory in it, no joy in victory. There was only bloodshed, and the hollow cold of being the one left standing in it.

Kakashi didn’t let them go so easily. With a sharp jolt, he unleashed the lightning of the Chidori into the shinobi’s body until it was spent. Still they didn’t scream, but a strangled cry escaped them, and they gurgled as Kakashi ripped his hand back and let them crumple to the ground. Off to the side, Zabuza clambered back to his feet, growling.

“Haku, you idiot.” Gravelly, an edge that betrayed his rage at Haku’s injuries, but cold enough to tell Kakashi he wouldn’t act on it. Silently, Kakashi couldn’t help but agree. If Haku had let Zabuza take the pincer attack Chidori, they would have gotten the chance to ambush Kakashi. They’d sacrificed their best chance at victory to spare Zabuza’s life.

And assuming Team Seven’s victory, Zabuza would die regardless.

Taking a step towards Zabuza made the ground roll, and Kakashi gritted his teeth against the swaying chakra fatigue. Sakura and Hinata’s chakra signatures were rapidly following Haku’s, and in a single four-on-two fight, the odds were stacked further in Kakashi’s favour than in two split battles.

Her voice sounded distant when Sakura yelled – “ _Get down!”_ – and Kakashi realised he’d pushed too hard. Throwing himself sideways, he tugged his hitai-ite over his Sharingan, but it was far too late. Only sheer will was keeping him moving now, his chakra thin and weak. Not so low that he was in danger of dying, not yet, but he couldn’t afford to play fast and loose with the threshold.

_If he went down, his genin followed._

With a wordless cry of effort, Sakura leapt past him in a blur of red and pink, landed just short of Zabuza, and slammed her fist into the ground. Chakra burst, and a moment later the ground ruptured outwards with a sound like thunder. Far more controlled than the first time Kakashi had seen her use the technique, a narrow cone of splintered earth broke open around Haku and rushed past to Zabuza. Snagging them in one arm, Zabuza yanked Haku out of the blast zone and leapt away, back towards his wayward sword.

Sakura was bleeding. Lots of small wounds, half-length senbon that stuck out in all directions like the bristling of an angry cat, faint dribbles of blood that seeped out from behind them and dotted her body almost artfully. Several steps behind her, Hinata was bleeding too. Just as many senbon wounds, if not more, and a severe wound along her right forearm, a laceration that soaked her jacket a deep crimson.

They seemed almost to be in greyscale in the aftermath of prolonged Sharingan use, the whole world too dim to feel quite real. Familiar and unwelcome, and Kakashi shoved it away as Sakura rose to her full height and glared after their enemies.

Suspicions clicked together in the back of his mind, and Kakashi had to actively arrest the flare of unquiet rage. No matter what she’d tried to pretend – whether it was something she’d cultivated for her tenure as a genin or if it was carried through from the Academy – Sakura was someone used to ignoring pain.

Sasuke was still pale as death, and Kakashi was fairly certain that the tremble he could sense in Sasuke’s chakra was reflected in his body, but he swallowed hard and took a step closer to his team anyway. To Sakura’s other side, Hinata moved in to tighten their formation, and though her Byakugan were deactivated now there was a hard steel in her back that spoke of long experience pushing through pain – loathing for the Hyuuga clan rose breathless in his chest, and Kakashi tried to swallow it back. Now wasn’t the time for this.

Haku was a bloodied doll folded in Zabuza’s grip, held against his body with one arm. Backing up to where his sword had been abandoned, Zabuza glanced across his opposition and snarled. A twitch in his hand, towards the hilt of the cleaved sword, and Kakashi took a jarring step closer himself. Couldn’t spare the energy to form a full Chidori, but he condensed a thread of chakra and let it zap around his palm in a threatening echo.

For what little it was worth, Kakashi would spare their lives if they surrendered.

Another sweep of narrow eyes across the battlefield, surveying the opposition and the smeared mess of the other two Kiri-nin who’d been part of the initial ambush. Behind them, the mirrors that Haku had used to fight were starting to crack and shatter and fall apart like wind chimes in a gale, irregular splashes sounding off as pieces crashed back into the river. Zabuza snarled at them once more, snatched up his sword, and a pained resignation shot through Kakashi’s chest like he’d been struck.

Once more – at the end of every fight just as at the beginning – there was a moment when everything went still and Kakashi felt, just for that moment, like a thin bubble on the verge of popping.

Like the rush of a failed genjutsu, the moment burst around them and Zabuza hoisted Kubikiribōchō onto his shoulder and took a step away. Turned his back. The burn of his chakra was brief as Zabuza broke off to flee, apparently counting himself outnumbered and beaten, but Kakashi gritted his teeth through it and tensed to give chase.

“Sensei,” came the call, and the battlefield spun as Kakashi turned to face it, nerves singing with dread, chakra a weak fizzing resistance numbing the nexus in his chest. Sakura’s green eyes met him. “We have to let him go.” Something low and ragged in her voice. Was it anger? He couldn’t quite tell. “We’re too… wounded.”

 _Oh, good._ The thought was hysterical and distant; someone else’s, maybe. _You’re about to collapse._

His voice wasn’t his own, when he spoke. “You did good.” Did they? Did _he?_

Darkness embraced him.

* * *

As Kakashi went down, Sasuke made a strangled noise and stumbled around the shards of earth Sakura had disrupted like he meant to catch their sensei, but he was nowhere close. She should have expected it – there’d been the faint tremor in Kakashi’s hands that she’d learned to watch out for, the way his stance had been slightly lower than usual, his wide eye and pinprick pupil. Half a step closer wasn’t nearly enough to prevent the rough impact – and like whiplash, Hinata shot by and caught Kakashi’s deadweight descent.

She squeaked softly as she did, and a confused blur of movement later she was on the ground underneath him. A second went by in eerie silence. “Uhm… Help?” Muffled a little, but it spurred Sakura back into action, and at her flank Sasuke hurried over to help as well.

Fear struck with ice-cold hands as they rolled Kakashi onto his side, limp and wounded, and Sakura dropped to her knees without thought. Protecting herself first wasn’t an option – it didn’t even occur to her to worry about exposure. With as fine a control as she could muster, Sakura called her chakra into her hands and watched a faint green glow emanate from her skin into his.

“Hinata.” Quiet, but it was a command all the same, and Hinata recognised it and slunk to Sakura’s side without question. Grimaced as she settled, cradling the arm with the jagged cuts to her chest. “I need you to tell me what Kakashi’s chakra levels look like.” His heart was a little slow, under her palms, a faint pulse against the diagnostic jutsu as she slid it across his lungs next. Tiredly – silently – Hinata blinked on her Byakugan. “His chakra nexus is still active, right?”

It felt like it, or at least Sakura thought it did. Dim and viscous, but still moving. At her side, Hinata nodded and let her dōjutsu go. “Yes. He’s alright.”

 _I doubt that._ But something in Sakura’s chest relaxed at the reassurance, and she let out a slow breath. “Okay.” She didn’t take her eyes off Kakashi – it was hardly the first time she’d seen him collapse, and she knew that it wouldn’t be the last – but she sheared off a thin film of her chakra and sent it out around them. Her teammates were too tired to react – tired, or perhaps just too shell-shocked from their first taste of true violence – but Sakura felt the feedback of three familiar chakra signatures, the faint glimmer of a civilian, and one she didn't know.

A quick glance was all it took to soothe the flash of fear. The second Demon Brother, the one she hadn’t slain, limp on the ground beside the corpse of his kin. Not physically restrained, as far as she could tell at this distance, but Hinata had fought him. He’d likely be paralysed for another few hours or so yet.

Zabuza and Haku were already long gone.

The breath she let out was shallow and harsh, but it made taking in the next easier all the same. “Report back,” she told the other genin, separating her hands and running the diagnostic jutsu across Kakashi’s body, searching for any injuries that would need immediate attention. “How hurt are you two?” One of Kakashi’s hands returned the silent crackle of broken bone as she went over it, and a severe burn on top of it.

Sasuke responded first, shifting unhappily on his feet, one hand moving up to his throat. A sharp glance revealed bruising starting to blotch dark blue against his skin. As if she’d been struck in the face, Sakura tasted the acid of anger on her tongue. “I’ll be fine,” he told her, and part of Sakura wanted to call him on his bullshit. They were never fine, even when they said they were – her whole team were a bunch of liars.

But that was before. The never team that didn’t exist. And the distinction was there, she realised a moment later. Not _I_ **_am_ ** _fine,_ but _I_ **_will be_ ** _fine._ She didn’t believe him – couldn’t believe him, couldn’t bring herself to without checking him herself – but she could choose to pretend that she did. For now, that would have to do.

“Okay. You need to deactivate your Sharingan.” Red eyes that were so familiar, and still so strange. It was almost weirder that he _hadn’t_ had them on command, but now that she was seeing them again, Sakura wished dearly that she wasn’t. For all the power and skill they offered, nothing but pain had ever come from the Sharingan. How much happier, she wondered, would Sasuke have been if he’d been born anyone but an Uchiha?

 _My Sasuke. The first Sasuke._ Sometimes it got hard to remember the difference, but then Sasuke would smile, or compliment his teammates, or readily admit defeat without resentment or anger… Not this Sasuke. This Sasuke was happy, despite being an Uchiha. The thought needed to be put aside.

“You’re draining chakra, and we might need it again soon.” They weren't safe until they were safe. A beat of silence went by, and Sakura glanced up and met his gaze. Something liquid, in those crimson eyes, and the hard edge in her chest gave way. Softer, “Don't worry. You’ll be able to reactivate it when you need it.”

For a moment Sasuke just stared back, and then he took an unsteady breath and blinked his Sharingan away.

“Good. You're not hurt anywhere else?”

Sasuke shook his head. “Nothing worse than scrapes.”

Mentally, Sakura moved Sasuke down her list of immediate concerns and turned to Hinata instead. A strained expression met her inspection, echoes of pain that even Hinata hadn’t yet learned to fully hide. Sakura put down the immediate surge of concern – she was injured from fighting, they both were, and it didn’t necessarily have to be any more serious than that. “... I’m alright,” Hinata whispered, dropping her gaze. A familiar lattice of shame wove across her features.

Letting go of her diagnostic jutsu with one hand, Sakura reached out to take Hinata’s. Gently laced her fingers between her teammate’s trembling ones, forced herself to drop her tone into something softer than a command. Tried not to think about her other hand, still hovering over Kakashi’s chest, tracking his sluggish heartbeat. “Hey, listen to me. I need you to be honest with me on this, okay? It’s not about strength. If you lie, I might ask you to do something you can’t. That will get us all hurt.”

Something clicked in Hinata’s expression, and Sakura let go of her hand. Relief trickled in weak slivers of warmth down her spine, and melted to nothing against the lingering icy fear just barely held back beneath her skin. “... I don’t think I can use my arm. I’m sorry.”

“Let me look at it.” There was faint noise in her ears as she took Hinata’s wrist and helped stretch out her arm. _No,_ not a noise, but something almost the same. Like screaming inside her own skull, silent and overwhelming. The all-too-familiar sense of pressure as she took charge of the situation. If it went badly now, then it was her fault.

_Focus._

She didn’t have time to panic. Zabuza had retreated, and Haku was down for the count – but they’d lost Kakashi, and there was nothing stopping Zabuza from coming back. Even with all her experience, even if she threw away every caution and pulled out every trick she knew, even outnumbering him, their chances of victory without Kakashi-sensei were slim to none.

The sleeve of Hinata’s jacket was torn open and bloodied. That she was still soaking wet from their fight in the river did nothing to allay the crimson staining. Fluff was streaked down across the exposed flesh, threads stuck in the wound and slicked with water and blood. “Sasuke, can you cut her sleeve off?”

Doing it herself would require that she move the hand still hovering above Kakashi’s chest, the faint beat of his heart and the shallow scrape of each slow breath a reassuring rhythm under her palm. Normally, she’d just take Kakashi home, but they didn’t have that option. Too far from Konoha with two genin under her care, and a civilian still under contract—

Sakura gritted her teeth. Tazuna could wait.

Hinata whimpered when Sasuke peeled her sleeve away, kunai slicing easily through the fabric, but she didn’t pull back. A long cut reached across her forearm, carved from almost her elbow down to the side of her wrist; as nasty as it looked, it was shallow. It must be, or Hinata would be significantly closer to bleeding out than she was. Smaller gashes, three of them, echoed the central wound on either side.

Running her fingers gently down one side of it elicited another low sound of pain, but no additional blood. Red and inflamed, and hot to the touch despite the cold water soaking Hinata head to toe. Eyes narrowed, Sakura flashed through the fight they’d just been through. Haku hadn’t inflicted it – even if Sakura hadn’t seen Hinata come into their fight with it, Haku didn’t use weapons that would inflict such a—

A growl escaped Sakura’s lips, and she got to her feet. Pushed away the flicker of fear as the diagnostic jutsu faded and she lost sense of Kakashi’s heartbeat. Sasuke let out a sound of alarm, but she ignored it. Stomped over to the paralysed Kiri-nin. There was naked terror in his eyes as she crouched down and stared into them.

Letting him go was out of the question. He’d attacked her team, he’d hurt her teammates. If Sasuke and Naruto were her brothers, then Hinata was her sister, and Sakura did not abide her family in pain. Not only physical, but emotional. They’d learn and they’d adjust and one day this fight would seem small and distant in comparison – but the scars it left would linger forever. Sasuke had crossed a threshold when he’d awoken his Sharingan. It was damage that could never be undone. So she bared her teeth while she rummaged through his pockets, and when she found the little antidote box she slid it gently into one of her own, shifted her weight to one knee on the ground, and lifted a hand level with her ear. Curled her fingers into her palm. Even if he hadn’t hurt her team, even if Sakura wasn’t half the vengeful creature she tried to pretend she wasn’t, leaving him alive was a liability. Even without an emotional trigger, _logic_ said that she should kill him. They couldn’t take him with them, and they couldn’t set him free.

Behind her, interrupting the coil of chakra she gathered in her fist, Sasuke shouted her name. “What are you doing?!” Alarm. Fear, even.

Looking back at him, Sakura felt disembodied for a moment. For Sasuke to be the one calling for _Sakura_ to show mercy was… surreal. But then, he wasn’t the Sasuke who’d lost his clan, who’d thrown away everything for one slim chance at vengeance, who was inured to death and bloodshed. That Sasuke didn’t exist, anymore. He never had. Instead, there was a young genin staring at her in horror, seeing a calm and casual – a _brutal_ – intent to kill.

She didn’t relax her arm. “We can’t let him go. We can’t take him with us.” There was a flat chill in her own voice that made the hair on the back of her neck rise. Part of her – _native response,_ she thought – quailed at it. A shiver that went unseen under her skin, a subconscious recoil from cold-blooded murder that felt childish. A mental rebuke silenced it, but Sakura couldn’t shake the faint curling edge of shame.

It didn’t matter. Shame was a worthless emotion – all it did was get in the way of what needed to be done.

Sasuke watched her like she was a stranger. Perhaps, with as good an upbringing as she could have hoped for him, he thought she suddenly was. The first time she'd been twelve, she would have been nauseated by the thought of killing a defenceless person, even an enemy shinobi.

War changed them all, in the end, she supposed.

“Sakura… You can’t just…” He trailed off. Disconnected, a thought tapped politely at the back of her head. _You don’t have time for this argument._ Utterly pallid, Sasuke was just staring at her. At the fist she held aloft, at the dashed mess she’d made of the first Demon Brother.

Hardening the small, scared part of herself, Sakura met his gaze squarely. “We’re shinobi.” _I’m sorry, Sasuke._ It wasn’t a lesson he should have to learn so soon. It wasn’t one he should have ever learned so young. “We kill when it’s necessary.” _And sometimes when it’s not._

She looked away, at least, when she charged the chakra in her hand and brought it down on the Kiri-nin’s head. Sasuke didn’t deserve to see it in her eyes. How little she cared. Death was an inevitability; shinobi died violently. _All of us._ And she wouldn’t waste herself on remorse for her enemies when she was better spent protecting her friends.

There was silence, as the skull came apart under her knuckles and blood and brain sprayed out. Heavy silence; bitter silence.

Maybe she was wrong. Maybe Sasuke was right to judge her.

_Too late for us both._

The blood came off too easily, as Sakura rose and sent a sheet of chakra across her skin, but it was a familiar sensation. The way it all sloughed off in a moment, as if her hands were clean. Sasuke moved a step away when Sakura got close, his gaze locked on the ground. Pale and drawn. But there was a furrow in his brow, something dark reflecting from his thoughts to his eyes.

A lesson learned too soon, and too violently.

Sakura could only hope that she hadn’t taught it wrong. Not enough of anything to fret about it now – they were running low on both chakra and time. “Tazuna’s hiding over there,” she said instead, pointing towards the civilian chakra signature. “Bring him back here.” There was no response to her command, but she felt Sasuke move away to obey. For now, that would have to be enough. “Alright, Hinata. This won’t be any worse than the senbon, okay?” Taking the box out from where she’d stashed it and opening it revealed a small syringe, and two sealed needles for it to slot into. _Two needles?_ Either the Demon Brothers were more paranoid about their own poison than she’d suspected, or they each carried a double dose of the antidote.

Which would make sense, Sakura thought as she pried one out and opened the end, popped the cap off the adapter, and clicked the syringe and needle together. If one of them lost their antidote, they’d still be carrying enough for them both.

Half the syringe then. At the very least, carrying the rest of it might prove to be useful later. She studied the wounds again for a few moments, tracing the bloodstains with her eyes, and then set the barrel of the syringe between her teeth. “Sorry, Hinata.” Mumbled around it, as she dug out a kunai of her own, but Hinata didn’t resist as Sakura cut off the other sleeve from her jacket. Didn’t even protest. Too much damage done to the wounded arm, too many broken blood vessels. One hand curled around Hinata’s wrist, Sakura pulled out her other arm into a relaxed position and then ran her thumb over the crease of her elbow. Green chakra glimmered in its wake for a second, and Sakura focused on the feedback of it.

Taking the syringe out of her mouth, Sakura primed the needle and then lined it up with the imprint of Hinata’s cephalic vein. “Sharp scratch.” It slipped out without thought – a refrain she’d said a thousand times over, met with a thousand different reactions, from the bemused exasperation of weathered shinobi to the frightened yips of young civilians.

“Wh—” Hinata’s confusion turned to a soft hiss as the needle went in, but she didn’t flinch. _Don’t blow the vein, Sakura._ Giving an intravenous injection was something she’d done countless times before, and _still_ her hands shook. It took so much concentration to hold steady and watch for the halfway point as she slowly depressed the plunger that she almost didn’t hear Hinata speak up again. “Sakura, what is that stuff?”

A note of anxiety in her voice that went beyond the usual. _Good fucking going, Sakura._ She hadn’t even bothered to tell Hinata what the hell she was doing. Was it a sign of trust or stupidity that Hinata had let her administer an unknown substance without question? “It’s an antidote,” she said instead, placing a thumb over the injection site and pulling the needle out. “Put your finger here and press.”

While Hinata did as she was told, Sakura got to removing the needle and recapping the syringe. It was a far cry from the most sterile of practices, but with open wounds doused in river water already, they were likely to pick up infections regardless. Such was the way of fighting shinobi. Lucky for them that high chakra flow helped counter illness and disease.

The syringe went back into the small box with the remaining needle, and the whole thing went into Sakura’s pocket. She pressed the used needle point-first into the ground and sunk it down a few inches from the surface. With luck, no civilians would ever step on it somehow, as if the roads weren't littered with lost shuriken and kunai anyway. _And if they do, it’s not my problem._

Sakura quietly put that thought away.

Turning back to Kakashi, Sakura tracked Sasuke’s silent return as he dragged Tazuna back from wherever he’d hidden – pausing a few times as he picked his way across the battlefield, retrieving his chakra metal shuriken from where they lay scattered – and considered their sensei. Kakashi was sporting myriad bruises and minor cuts, but aside from the broken hand (and the burn on the back of it), his biggest injury was extreme chakra fatigue. _Well…_ ‘Extreme’ was always a relative term with Kakashi – but he was so close to needing a chakra transfusion that this case qualified.

Had he been this dire the first time around? Was this fight just worse, or had she been too ignorant back then to realise how fine a line Kakashi danced between recovery and death?

The thought was ice cold under her skin, and Sakura tried to shove it away. What mattered was that he was as safe to move as she could have hoped for – because under no circumstance could they stay here. That Zabuza would come looking for them wasn’t a case of _if,_ it was a case of _when._

_Think, Sakura. Use what you have._

“Hinata, I know you’re not feeling great right now, but you’re going to have to be our lookout.” Wounded and tired as she was, Hinata couldn’t help carry Kakashi and she simply couldn’t protect Tazuna as well as Sasuke could right now. Juuken lost some of its terror when she could only apply it with one hand. “How much chakra have you got left?” Even as she got to her feet and evaluated an equal partition of her own.

White eyes tracked her movement, and there was weariness in them but none of the haziness Sakura was afraid of. Hinata bit her lip while she thought about an answer, and then let it go and lifted her chin. “A little less than a quarter.” For a moment, Sakura met her gaze, wondering whether she believed the answer. Then, silencing the suspicious instincts, she nodded.

“Alright. Try not to overuse your Byakugan. If we’re tracked, our only option is to try and evade him.” She’d prefer to run like hell, but with a civilian and Hinata wounded, they couldn’t hope to outrun Zabuza even if Kakashi had been on his feet. A glance towards Sasuke as he drew level with them, debating with herself about her next words. Hinata was still so far behind herself, young and riddled with anxiety and self-doubt. The older version would have taken the proper meaning of it – but then, the older version wouldn’t have needed to hear it. Sakura fixed Hinata with a grim stare. “You’re our first line of defence, Hinata. If Zabuza comes after us again, an early warning is the only hope we’ve got.”

If there was even a shred of justice in the world, Hinata would take the confidence Sakura had in her to perform the task, rather than fret about the immensity of it. _That’s a joke._ She knew better than to think the world would offer any justice. But she didn’t have a choice.

“Sasuke, can you help Hinata get those senbon out?” An easy enough task for Sakura to perform herself, nose twitching slightly as she started plucking the needles out of her own flesh, but admittedly much harder for Hinata when she could only use one arm. By sight alone she was fairly sure that none of the senbon she or Hinata bore had opened any arteries, but it was an outcome that she could fix if she was wrong.

There was a hollow note to Sasuke’s voice as he finally spoke up, even as he moved to do as she’d asked. Something distant and alien. Sakura tried not to feel the phantom hands closing around her lungs. “How the hell are we going to take Kakashi-sensei with us? We can’t carry him that far—”

“I’m going to carry him.” Sasuke blinked at her owlishly, as if she’d spoken a different language.

“What?”

In response, Sakura put her hands together, followed the split she’d scored into her chakra, and produced a shadow clone at her side. _Thank whatever gods are listening for Kakashi’s disregard for the rules._ Technically speaking, he shouldn’t have taught her the shadow clone jutsu – but by the time he had, Sasuke had abandoned them and Naruto was gone, and she’d only had to ask the once.

Sasuke blinked again, speechless for a moment, and she saw the question dance across his face before he swallowed it back. “Even with two of you, there’s no way that you can carry him the whole way, and who knows when he’ll wake up? We’re better off just waiting here unti— What the fuck?” Maybe it was petty to not even let him finish, working in tandem with her clone to pick Kakashi up off the ground instead of argue with him.

It wasn’t the time for showing off, but holding back meant the exact scenario Sasuke was trying to navigate, and waiting around for Kakashi to wake up was not only tantamount to suicide – especially with a civilian and two genin who couldn’t hide their chakra signatures – but would take far longer than Sasuke thought. Kakashi would be out for the whole day, easily. Most of the next, too.

They didn’t have that kind of time.

She was in for a rough journey, certainly, while she settled Kakashi’s body between herself and her clone. The clone went in front, Kakashi’s knees hooked over her arms at the elbow; each hand closed around the opposing wrist, and she settled in position. Shadow clones didn’t have muscles, exactly, but the less strain went on her clone, the longer she’d last. A few steps behind her, Sakura looped her arms under Kakashi’s and locked her hands across his chest to secure him in place.

Kakashi’s head rested heavy against her collar, his nose turned into her neck. It was mostly intentional, trying to keep from inflicting the ache of holding a bad angle for a prolonged period, but she was quickly considering it a mistake. If only his hair was even a mite bit tamer, and not tickling against her nose.

The chakra flow necessary to augment her physical strength was thinner than she’d expected to need. How much of it was the constant strength training he’d been putting her through, and how much of it was the chakra filaments she’d been building in every muscle she had? Granted, she had a massive advantage in using chakra to bolster herself, because aside from offering an increased baseline of strength to work with, the filaments gave a faster route through which to stream her chakra, and both consumed and leaked less of it overall.

Even so, how much of it was that Kakashi was so much lighter than she’d thought?

“Sasuke, you’re responsible for Tazuna.” His shock was fading into narrowed eyes and furrowed brow, a betrayed lack of recognition as he stared at her. There were claws in her chest as she met his gaze, but it had to wait – they didn’t have time. “You can fight better than Hinata right now, and I’m a bit busy.” The sharp giggle that came from Hinata was hysterical, but it was better than shutting down and Sakura knew only too well how easily that could happen.

There was deep and acidic familiarity in the way Sasuke glared at her, but he took point when she told him to and kept his pace slow. A terrifying decision, not to run as fast as they could, but they were still under contract. No mind that it was void – it was Sakura’s fault they were here, and she’d shoulder the responsibility for it.

Only as they made their way towards where she knew Tazuna’s small boat was moored did it strike Sakura that if Zabuza did return for them, their lives weren’t necessarily forfeit. Killing a bunch of genin wasn’t what he was being paid for, and he’d only taken the fights so seriously last time around because Kakashi had been a factor. Now, with Kakashi down for the count and the three of them barely worth a damn, he might not even bother.

Or worse, he’d leave them as gutted and torn as they’d left Haku; a personally-tailored hell for Kakashi to wake up to. The thought was like biting into ice.

Sasuke was silent as he led the party, Tazuna keeping close at his heel. Sulking, perhaps – although the word carried a sense of juvenility that was, in this case, undeserved. At their back Hinata was silent too, but Sakura hoped that it was because she was busy watching for a tail, and not because she was angry. Or, worse, because the poison was taking effect and the antidote wasn’t.

Keeping a low-level diagnostic jutsu over Kakashi’s chest where she carried him was enough to reassure Sakura of his continued heartbeat and chakra circulation, so she let her clone keep eyes up front and turned her head to catch sight of Hinata. Even steps, wounded arm held against her chest, but unshaken. As Sakura watched, Hinata’s eyes pulled tight and swept around them, a silent whisper on her lips. Met Sakura’s gaze for a moment as they relaxed again, and forced a tiny smile. A nod.

And so the group of them marched on, in silence.

* * *

The trip across the water had been a nerve-wracking one; dispersing her clone for the sake of taking less space in Tazuna’s dingy little boat, resisting every urge to hurry along the trip either by taking the oar from his grasp (and thus taking her own hands from Kakashi’s chest) or working a sneaky suiton and rushing the water beneath. She couldn’t risk either, of course – the former would not only unsettle the delicate balance holding them together but lose her only reassurance that Kakashi hadn’t dipped so low in chakra to make a transfusion unavoidable, and the latter would be an egregious waste of chakra that Sakura couldn’t afford.

Besides which, she shouldn’t know such jutsu, were she the Sakura who belonged to this timeline. As frayed as she’d realised her cover already was, there was no sense to inviting further suspicion.

Tazuna carried Kakashi out of the boat once they made it to shore, against Sakura’s admittedly weak protests. Another clone was more chakra she couldn’t waste, more time spent circulating it through her body for artificial strength and bleeding the energy she’d need to ensure her team’s health once they could finally stop moving. She kept close all the same, one hand curled tightly around Kakashi’s uninjured one and glowing green.

There was more bubbling up as they wove through the village, soft signals that rose up underneath the regular thrum of his pulse against her fingertips. Lesser things, barely-there shivers that she would have ignored normally. Old wounds, healed injuries. Scars. Hardly anything surprising there – shinobi came exclusively with a litany of scars – but the pattern nagged quietly at the back of Sakura’s mind as they walked. Impossible to be certain without actually looking, but it was familiar and the longer she lingered on it the tighter dread’s gentle claws dug into the gaps of her ribs.

She took no notice of Inari or his mother when they finally arrived. Decided not to ponder their ‘fortune’ at making the trip through the village without attracting attention from Gatō or his lickspittles despite their obvious wounds and hitai-ite. Word would get back to him soon enough, but dealing with him could wait.

The room was the same, when Tazuna led them up a small flight of stairs and gently set Kakashi down. It had been so many years since she’d been here, a small blip in the long line of catastrophes that made up her shinobi resume, but somehow the details jumped out at her all the same. The way the floorboards creaked as she stepped over them. (The way they _didn’t_ as Hinata followed her). Scratches and whorls in the woodwork, the washed-out colour of the blanket that Inari’s mother brought up after them. The concern etched on Tsunami’s face as she took in three wounded children, as she watched the way Kakashi’s head lolled sideways as he was laid down, the absolute lack of tension betraying how deeply unconscious he was. The way Sakura’s skin hummed with green chakra as she held fiercely to Kakashi’s hand.

His other hand was broken, and Sakura had taken the long silence amongst her team to work through whatever excuses she might need. Lying to Sasuke and Hinata tasted like the steel of her own kunai, but it was infinitely easier than lying to Kakashi; as guilty as she felt to even entertain the thought, she was lucky that he was unconscious. “Sasuke, Hinata,” she began, dropping to her knees at Kakashi’s side and silently shooing Tazuna and Tsunami back. “Scout around the house. Make sure we haven’t been followed.” With their dōjutsu they were both far better suited to such a task than she was – and, more importantly, it would get them out of the room.

Too dangerous, even to them, for Sakura to show too much of her skill as a med-nin.

Unfair, for her to risk showing off their sensei’s secrets without his consent.

Hinata nodded and turned away to do so, but for a long moment Sasuke just stared at her. Without any other recourse, Sakura just met his inky gaze. Finally, as he followed the other kunoichi, Sakura released the diagnostic jutsu monitoring Kakashi and then released his hand as well.

“Thank you,” she told Tsunami. Tazuna could _wait._ “Kakashi-sensei will be okay, he just needs some rest.” A lot of rest. A lot of rest, and as much medical ninjutsu as she dared. “He’ll recover best if he’s not bothered.” Maybe that was too tacit a request; would she have been so shy if she was working a shift in Konoha General? It didn’t seem to matter, though. Tsunami took Tazuna by the elbow and dipped her head briefly. Offered some murmured platitude that Sakura didn’t hear and steered her father out.

The door shut behind them with a creak and a click.

Everything rushed out from underneath her in the abrupt solitude, and for a few seconds it was all Sakura could do to swallow the deep rattling sob swelling under her chest. Training kicked in, and the bubble turned into a single sharp breath, and Sakura focused on her patient. Her sensei. Only too many times they had been one and the same.

 _Triage._ The first concern was the broken and burned hand. Kakashi being in chakra fatigue severe enough to knock him out was as terrifying as it always was – with chakra reserves as thin as Kakashi’s were, and under the constant strain of his Sharingan eye, exhaustion was common to the point of expectation – but it was a familiar fear and as long as his chakra stayed circulating, she could avoid a transfusion. She _shouldn’t,_ were she to do her job as a medic properly, but it was a technique that she shouldn’t even know about with any detail yet, let alone know how to perform; beyond that, it was a technique that would end any hope she had of maintaining some semblance of cover. First thing to treat was the hand, so as gently as she could, Sakura went to Kakashi’s other side and lifted his hand in her own. Even without a diagnostic jutsu, the damage was obvious enough to Sakura’s experienced touch; fractures that slipped and ground under light pressure, but didn’t snap or move out of place.

 _When_ she ignited the diagnostic jutsu, the crackle of broken bone was matched by the stickiness of a burn, and Sakura bit her lip. Burns were tricky beasts – fairly straightforward to treat, and rarely life-threatening for a shinobi when so small as this one, but painful and prone to infection all the same.

It was risky to fully heal his hand, for more than one reason. Not only would it take far more chakra than she dared spare to return the injury to a pristine condition, but forcing such extreme acceleration of healing carried risks in its own right. A lesson she’d learned early, and watched other budding med-nin struggle with just as she had – just as they all did – but a lesson she would never forget. And beyond that, even, healing the break to something Kakashi could still tentatively work with was a risk enough to her cover. She was banking on the chance that he’d been too focused on the fight, too focused on keeping his genin safe from such an incredible threat as Momochi Zabuza to pay attention to how much damage had actually been done to his hand. He’d know he was wounded, but if she was lucky – and she left a fraction of the break unhealed, if she left the burn painful but safely sealed over – then he might simply accept that it wasn’t as severe an injury as he might have initially thought.

The green chakra under her palms shifted hue as she wove it into a new purpose, flickering and flashing in winking constellations as she let her own energy drain into Kakashi, accelerating normal healing processes and feeling bone and skin knit back together. Infuriating, that it was even more tiring than it usually was – her twelve-year-old body just didn’t have the reserves that her eighteen-year-old body had – but it was a feeling she knew all too well, and she could always sleep afterwards.

Sakura was still examining her work, debating with herself whether she’d done enough or too much, when there was a soft knock at the door. “Come in.” Tsunami, perhaps, overly polite even in her own house. Hinata, even. Not Inari or Tazuna, not with so light a knock – and as much as Sakura wished otherwise, she doubted that Sasuke would be coming to see her right now. Too much to adjust to, too many beliefs that he had to let go of.

Peeking around the door as she only half-opened it, Hinata took in Kakashi tucked under a blanket on the futon and the tiredness that Sakura knew she wasn’t hiding. Drawn face, shoulders slanted down, an arch in her back that she would regret tomorrow. “Uhm… Tsunami-san made dinner, if you’re hungry.” White eyes swept across Kakashi’s limp form again, resting on the scrap of visible face. “... Is he going to be okay?”

It took more energy than she wanted to admit, but Sakura gave Hinata a smile. “Yeah. He used too much chakra in the fight, but like I told Tsunami-san, he’ll be okay with some rest.” _And a little help._ “Thanks for letting me know about dinner, but I might just get some sleep myself.” She hated how little of the exhaustion seeping into her voice was faked. How weak she was, locked in her child’s body. How much she resented that the only cure was time.

Biting her lip, Hinata looked Sakura over this time, and then nodded. “Okay. I’ll let everyone know.” A moment later, and a click that was almost silent ( _How much practice does she already have at closing doors silently?_ ), and Sakura was once more alone with her sensei.

It was wrong, to look further than she needed to in order to verify his safety. Another sweep to ensure she hadn’t missed anything, one more check that his heart was beating strong enough and his chakra was still circulating. There was no more that she _should_ do, and so much more that she _shouldn’t._ Just because her Kakashi had trusted her with every confession signed in his skin – both fading and fresh – didn’t mean that this Kakashi did. Even if she could already guess at the patterns she’d felt lurking beneath his clothes, even if his secrets were already known to her, this Kakashi hadn’t trusted her with them. This person, this jōnin here right now, the reality of her sensei and not her memory of him – he had neither revealed his lingering trauma nor expressed permission for her to scrutinise it.

But she already knew, and he didn’t have to suffer the humiliation of her knowledge if she just kept her mouth shut.

A glance up and a short bubble of chakra, ensuring that nobody else was about to burst in on them, and Sakura shifted back to Kakashi’s other side and lifted his uninjured hand. It was wrong, but while the shape of the scars she’d felt under her diagnostic was a familiar one, the picture they’d made wasn’t as she remembered.

It took more finessing than it had done in her first timeline, getting Kakashi’s gloves off. She’d already wondered several times over the months spent relearning how to be a genin, what change had happened to cause Kakashi to wear gloves that ran as long as Anbu’s – in fact, as she took a moment to look them over, Sakura was almost certain that they were _straight-up_ Anbu gloves, instead of the modified version he’d had the first time. Hazards and guesses she had in abundance, but Kakashi had trained her well in seeing underneath the underneath, and there was no safe hypothesis without asking him directly.

Perhaps, she thought quietly as the glove slid off his skin and she set the metal plates down on the floor without a sound, she should have wondered a little less loudly. Carved across his arm, many running further up under the sleeve she could push only up to his elbow, was a litany of soft white scars.

Many of them were unconcerning to her; nicks and scratches and uneven lines where Kakashi had taken hits throughout his long tenure as a shinobi, places where he’d chosen to take blades to his forearms rather than anywhere more dangerous, divots and small pockmarks where he’d caught shuriken or senbon. Fainter ones, a long white line that ran halfway down his arm from his elbow, the faint pearlescence of it betraying how much chakra someone else had expended to heal it, to minimise the scarring.

Familiar marks, things that inspired not fear or sorrow, but pride in every trophy from fights that Kakashi had pushed through and won, and kept living afterwards.

And others, just as familiar, and wretchedly so. A neat ladder that ran a gauntlet up his wrist, horizontal answers to a question that Sakura didn’t have the right to ask. More of them than she had counted on the Kakashi she’d known before; each one a silent whisper, each one of them one too many. Several more nestled between older scars, still delicate and pink as they healed. A dappled shimmer within them clashed with the complete coverage of the rest and spoke of inexperienced medical ninjutsu; a note she took quietly in the back of her mind and then set down.

“Oh…” Soft, as if she risked waking him and getting caught. “Oh, Sensei…”

Another, longer than the others and far too precisely straight to be anything but deliberate, running vertically the full length of his forearm from the inside of his elbow to his wrist. Not as pale white as the others, this one, a deep purple-pink tint to the scar tissue that betrayed how serious it must have been – and the same slight pearly glimmer that betrayed how frantically the med-nins must have attended it.

There was no doubt in Sakura’s heart that Kakashi carried its match on his other arm.

It was easier, even with the faint tremble in her hands, to get his glove back on than it had been to take it off. Still wrong, guilt plucking across her diaphragm with gentle, relentless fingers, but Sakura steadied her breath – _You’ve seen this plenty of times before, pull it together, Sakura_ – and activated her diagnostic jutsu for what she promised herself was the last time tonight.

Just to check his breathing, his heartbeat, his chakra flow. Just to make sure she hadn’t missed any other injuries that needed attention. She wasn’t going to look further, she wasn’t going to invalidate his right to privacy, especially because despite what she remembered – despite what she wished – Sakura _was not_ his med-nin, and how far she’d yet pried was reprehensible already. So it was a quick check, up the torso, down the ribs, around the neck and head, and along every limb, and she didn’t intend to do anything more than what was required to ensure his safety.

And her roving palm caught, on the triceps of his left arm, and Sakura’s resolve crumbled like a breath she’d forgotten to let go.

Taking his flak jacket off was something that she would have done anyway, she told herself as she did, carefully setting it aside and hoping she hadn’t dislodged any hidden weapons. (There were _always_ hidden weapons). Getting his long-sleeved shirt off, while not as strictly necessary, was something she’d have at least seriously considered, she reminded herself quietly. Making sure he was comfortably settled in the recovery position, left shoulder up, with the blanket tucked neatly around him; that was normal, comforting, easy. It was justifiable.

But the soft combat bandage wrapped around his arm, covering the Anbu tattoo he’d borne as a teenager, was something that she’d always known him to wear under his kit, and something that offered no obstruction to his recovery. There was no justifying her decision to unwrap it and peek beneath. Nothing but dire curiosity, the disruption that had spiked under her sensory chakra and pressed suddenly against her palm, and the gross disregard she watched herself display for Kakashi’s right to privacy.

Carved into his arm, a vertical ridge that was too jagged to match the cuts on his forearms but too meticulous to be random, a thick, ugly scar rent his Anbu tattoo asunder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stuff, Things, and In Betweens  
> | So first, I want to apologise for just how far overdue this chapter is. The long and short of it is that I had a mental health crisis, then I had a lot of study and homework to do, then I had surgery, and then something else in my life blew up horribly, and it's pretty much just been a hell of a time. That said, I'm going to be extending my deadlines for new chapters to a month for a while, and we'll see what happens from there.  
> | As you've seen in the past though, a month is just the longest potential wait I want to inflict. If I finish the next chapter early, it will likely be published early.  
> | Just to top it all off, this chapter has undergone at least three partial rewrites, and a lot of polishing, and it fought me every step of the way - but I am so happy with how it's turned out, so victory is MINE damn it!  
> | A huge and thankful shoutout to [ClockworkSirius](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClockworkSirius) and [Haethel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Haethel) for all of their incredible beta work. Without them, this chapter would be trash.  
> | Finally, a link to my official writing Tumblr - this is where progress updates, delays, and other tidbits can be found. This is also where I will consistently receive prompts or asks if ever y'all felt the need to give me any. [SilverStarlightWrites](https://silverstarlightwrites.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Next Chapter due: **7th September 2020**


	10. Memory Is Not All That Bleeds Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sakura was wrong.

_ There’s something unique, Sasuke thinks, about the silence of death. Something heavy and foreboding, an oncoming dread that oozes doubt and darkness. It’s a voiceless echo in his skull that won’t back down, a whispering terror as he approaches the front door to his own house. _

_ Bloody handprints sign a sinister promise along the frame. A trail of blackened crimson that beckons Sasuke past the threshold, towards the shadows and the biting smell of iron in the air. _

_ He knows, somehow, a sickening weight in his gut that feels like a parasite writhing— He knows with such surety that he doesn’t even question it, what is awaiting him inside. Dread wraps cool hands around his throat; he can’t breathe as he creeps further inside, past the empty central room, through the hallway and out to the little training hall behind the house. The metallic stench of blood greets him first, but it’s quickly followed by the sight, and then weakness and nausea overtake all thought and Sasuke collapses to his knees. _

_ The bodies on the floor are familiar and broken. Empty black eyes and a shared puddle of scarlet that turns everything else greyscale, and it’s with a rumbling purr of agony in his chest that Sasuke lifts his gaze from his dead parents. He knows, already, he  _ **_knows,_ ** _ but it can’t be true. _

_ It’s impossible, he refuses to believe it.  _ **_It can’t be true._ **

_ Itachi would never. _

_ Standing over their corpses is Sasuke’s brother, staring back with glowing red eyes. His sword is held in one hand, dripping blood that almost seems luminescent; the point has dipped so low that it almost touches the floor. Itachi doesn’t blink. _

_ It can’t be real, and the mantra tastes like acid on Sasuke’s tongue, but Itachi steps closer. Over their father’s legs, splayed unnaturally apart. Past their mother’s head, facedown in her own blood. He still hasn’t blinked. _

_ The sword lifts, ever so slightly, and Sasuke feels the terror crack apart into despair. _

_ “Wh… Itachi…? Please…” _

_ He doesn’t even know what he’s pleading for, but Itachi gets closer, each step stamped on the floor in blood, and Sasuke doesn’t move. He can’t. It feels like there’s nothing except the red on all sides, the way Itachi is still getting closer, the sword’s edge that keeps getting higher, fractions at a time, until finally it rests softly on Sasuke’s collar and stains his shirt.  _

_ Cold and distant, Itachi stares him down. _

_ “Why?” _

_ His face blurs as Sasuke stares back, and it isn’t until Itachi leans down to his level and touches his cheek that Sasuke realises he’s crying. The blade still touches Sasuke’s throat. _

_ There’s a flash, something violent and devastating, like lightning in the depths of night. Itachi’s face fractures, Sharingan melting into irises bleached a soft grey. There’s blood seeping from his lips, twisted into a painful smile. Tears of crimson smeared across sallow skin and sunken cheeks. _

_ A flutter of pressure, like butterfly wings against his forehead. _

_ It ruptures under Itachi’s gentle voice, and the whole room comes crumbling down. _

_ “To see if I could.” _

_ Sasuke leans forward, against the sword, and for the briefest second he feels its bite; frozen teeth that spread ice into his veins like a flashfire in reverse. _

_ The universe shatters. _

* * *

The sunlight was watery and dim when Hinata’s eyes first opened to see it. Wet like the air, wintry and distant – but the fact remained that it was sunlight, and that meant that she’d slept through the dawn.

Quietly panicking, Hinata dragged in a deep breath in an attempt to control it as she scrambled out of bed— it wasn’t right, the feeling of it underneath her, the distance from the floor—

“Hinata?” A familiar voice – but not the one that Hinata expected, too high-pitched and lacking completely the cold disappointment with which she was so intimate. It was so jarring that for a moment, Hinata could only blink towards its source, unseeing. “Hey, take it easy, okay?”

A burning ache in her right arm reminded her viciously why she shouldn’t be moving so recklessly, but Hinata swallowed back the pain and forced her senses to focus. Sitting across the room from her – knelt quietly beside Kakashi-sensei – Sakura offered a weak smile.

All at once, memory flashed back, and Hinata bit down on the quaking fear that swept through her. It was followed, a fraction later, by an aching pain buried under the bones of her arm, and she choked on a whimper, tucking it against her chest reflexively. “Sakura?” There were bandages on her arm, mottled red and white, and the steady touch of Sakura’s hands on her skin still lingered underneath them like a ghost. A glance around the room confirmed that aside from Kakashi-sensei – still limp and unsettlingly slumbering – they were alone. “Where’s Sasuke-kun?”

He’d be upset if he’d heard her; the honourific was something that he didn’t like to hear from them. His team. Even Kakashi-sensei got the side-eye when he used it, despite that he only used it mockingly. Maybe she was lucky Sasuke wasn’t in the room.

Sakura looked away, and guilt made a path through her face, familiar and unwelcome. “He’s downstairs with Tsunami-san. We need to have someone on guard as much as possible.” Soft voice, gaze fixed on their sensei’s slack face. Something… regretful on her features as she spoke, tracing the shape of Kakashi’s mask with her eyes. “There’s no telling when the Kiri-nin will try again.”

Ice crept down Hinata’s back, shivering fingers that left lingering fingerprints. It must have shown, because Sakura waved a hand in her direction and offered an unconvincing smile. Instead of comfort, Hinata only felt fear radiate from it, curdling with her own.

“Is he okay?” Even Hinata wasn’t certain if she meant Sasuke or Kakashi-sensei. It didn’t matter though, because Sakura gave her the same tight smile again and waved a hand vaguely.

“They’ll be alright. Kakashi-sensei just needs to rest, and Sasuke seems… well, he wasn’t hurt too badly.” An edge to the way she said it, like she didn’t quite believe it – like she knew she was lying. Looking down at her hands, Hinata pondered it. The bandages were still snug on her arm after a night of sleeping on them, carefully but expertly applied and chakra-glued in place. There was a level of experience in the way Sakura was treating them that Hinata couldn’t explain. Things that they hadn’t been taught in the Academy, things that even Hinata was shaky on, despite all the advantages of being born not just to the Hyuuga clan, but to the  _ head _ of the Hyuuga clan.

She didn’t know much about medicine or medical ninjutsu, but Hinata knew that was difficult, precise work. Of all of them, Sakura definitely had the chakra control for it – but where had she learned it? Last night had been too much of a blur to remember to ask. With Sakura sequestered away with Kakashi-sensei and Sasuke grim and foreboding as he kept watch, it had fallen on Hinata to get the story out of Tazuna-san about  _ what in the actual heck was going on. _

The answer she’d gotten hadn’t eased the terror of the situation even a fraction.

Curiosity danced on her tongue, but Hinata swallowed it and nodded. Whatever questions she had for Sakura would wait. Right now, all of their focus needed to be on protecting Tazuna-san and his family – and staying alive to do it. If all this medical knowledge Sakura had somehow accrued meant surviving this mission, then they were all the luckier for it.

Instead, Hinata dragged herself off the floor and to her feet. “Have you eaten anything yet, Sakura?” Vaguely, Sakura had mentioned that she’d sleep through dinner the night before, but even though she’d failed to come down she’d still been awake and alert when Hinata had retired herself, and tended to their wounds more thoroughly.

“Oh.” This time, the smile seemed a little bit easier. “I… might have forgotten about that.”

There was a tingle of guilt in Hinata’s chest – almost embarrassment – at the sheer hypocrisy of it, but she still frowned at Sakura’s admission. “I’ll bring you something up.” No telling if Sakura would actually eat breakfast if Hinata brought it to her, but the attempt was all she could do.

At least Sakura nodded, as Hinata made her way towards the door. “I’ll have a look at your arm when you do. I think I remember something that might help.”

Pausing, Hinata studied her teammate for a minute, watching the way she watched their sensei. There was an edge in the way her eyes flickered over Kakashi’s form, something sharp and calculating that Hinata couldn’t identify, but recognised. It was the same severity with which cousin Neji had watched Hinata and Hanabi’s training in the mornings, before he’d graduated and been given to Itachi-sensei. A keen knowledge and understanding of what she was seeing.

Was she really that clever? Had she picked up so much from textbooks?

But the question had to wait, so Hinata left her to it and wandered downstairs. She wasn’t as stealthy as she’d hoped, because Sasuke was watching for her by the time she reached him. Eyes shadowed, but he lifted his chin in greeting and then beckoned her over. Inari was on his other side, but he leaned away from Sasuke slightly, eating silently. Hard to blame him, as Hinata came level with them; Sasuke’s expression was stormy and dark, and the bruises on his neck had turned purple-black to match.

“How’d you sleep?” Grumbled, even as Sasuke handed her a bowl. Hinata decided not to mention the nightmares; she was sure Sasuke had plenty of his own.

Instead, she accepted breakfast and picked at it. “Fine.”  _ Terribly. _ But he didn’t need to know that – even if the side-eye he gave her suggested that he didn’t believe her anyway. “How about you?”

Sasuke’s gaze went back to his food as he replied. “Fine.” And Hinata didn’t believe him, but she let the lie pass. He hadn’t questioned hers. “... Is Sakura coming down?” Hesitation – like he didn’t want her to. However unsettled Hinata was by the ease with which Sakura had assumed command of Team Seven, right now wasn’t the time to question it. They’d be lost without her leadership.

All the same, Hinata felt his relief when she shook her head, and she tried not to taste his guilt too. “I said I’d take some breakfast up for her.” Bit her lip and focused down on her own. “Do you know if she slept at all?” It nagged at the back of her mind, how haggard Sakura looked. Where was she finding the resolve to stay so calm, to monitor Kakashi without the raw terror that threatened to choke Hinata senseless if she pondered on it too long?

The reality of their situation. The sheer vulnerability of it. There was no telling when the Kiri-nin would return, but he doubtless would. And they were a woefully inadequate force to defend against him. It was more a question of what he would do with them once he defeated them, and less a question of whether he would. They didn’t stand a hare’s chance amongst wolves.

His mouth a thin line, Sasuke set down his chopsticks and leant back in his seat, black eyes locked on the table. “... I’m not sure. But doesn’t she seem… wrong, to you?” He glanced up, just for a moment, and then looked away again – his shoulders hunching – as if meeting Hinata’s gaze was too terrible a task. “She’s not right, Hinata.” Before she could even respond. “She shouldn’t be able to…” Trailed off, his voice quiet and ashamed. Guilt flashed through his expression like a fish flashed through water.

Silence stretched out between them. Sticky. Unbearable. 

“I— uhm… I don’t know. You know her better than me.” It felt dirty, to stumble through a lie like that; Hinata shouldn’t lie to her teammates, especially not to her  _ friend, _ and this was her second in barely a minute _. _ But Sakura was her friend too. Different from Sasuke, more withdrawn and subdued most of the time, carrying a silent weight that Hinata couldn’t grasp – but her friend all the same. It felt just as wrong to talk behind her back like Sasuke was asking.

But the second glance he shot at her just made her feel worse. “She’s not… acting like herself, Hinata.” Voice low, still, to avoid drawing their clients into their qualms. “I don’t know how she… How she  _ did _ all that.”

_ All that. _

Did he mean the way she’d given out orders without hesitation, even before Kakashi-sensei had gone down; spoken up, defied him, so calmly and confidently that it was like she had done it a thousand times before? Did he mean how twitchy and on edge she’d been the whole mission, even before everything had turned to hell – as if she’d known about the looming danger? Did he mean the way she’d fought, the skills she’d shown, the knowledge of techniques and medicine that Kakashi-sensei had never taught them?

Did he mean that she’d killed two people, and shown no remorse for it?

Staring at her own breakfast, but barely seeing it, Hinata bit her tongue and tried to focus on the sensation of her own teeth, rather than the roaring doubt inside her thoughts. “It doesn’t matter.”

Sasuke let out a noise like he’d choked, eyes going wide as they finally lifted to look at her properly. “How can you say that? We’re supposed to be able to  _ trust _ her, and—”

“Stop it.” As if she’d slapped him – despite that she spoke softly through loose strands of her hair – Sasuke went silent. “... I’m sorry.” Even if she had to cut off Sasuke’s fearful rambling before it got too far, before their clients heard, interrupting him felt cruel. Especially when she let herself think about the trust he was showing in her by doing so. She tried not to. “Right now, we have to just… do the mission. Everything else has to wait.” Their lives depended on it. “Do you trust Sakura to be on our side?”

Blinking owlishly, it took Sasuke a minute to process that. Then, slowly, with more trepidation than Hinata had hoped, he nodded. “Yeah.”

“Alright.” And she reached out, took his hand and laced their fingers together. Squeezed. It was just as much a selfish action as it was meant to be comforting; the reminder of reality, warm and calloused skin against her own, helped to dispel the haze of unreality that threatened at the edge of all her senses. “Then we have to get home first.”

For a moment, acutely aware of the eyes that had turned on them when Hinata had reached over for Sasuke’s hand, they hovered in suffocating silence, and then Sasuke sighed and nodded again. “Yeah.” He squeezed back, just for a second, and then extricated his fingers and went back to eating. Slow, too reluctant to pass any charade of being okay, but eating all the same.

_ He’s right. _ They needed to keep up whatever strength they could, and at least trying to eat and sleep sufficiently was the bare minimum. Hinata forced a smile for Tsunami’s benefit, and then got to eating. It tasted like powdered stone as she did, but that was about as objectionable as it got. Distantly, the detached part of Hinata’s mind analysed itself, recognising the way her senses weren’t working properly as a sign of stress, skirting the edge of blind panic as it danced ever closer.

Her brain was playing tag with itself, and if she stumbled then she’d be caught in her own fear like an animal caught in a trap. It had happened before. It would probably happen again – but not now. Not here. She couldn’t let it be here and now. She was responsible for more than her own life.

So were they all. If all Hinata could do to claw out of the threatening spiral of terror was to eclipse as much unnecessary emotion as she could, then she would do everything in her power to shut her eyes to it. It could wait. It  _ had _ to wait. She couldn’t be the reason they died.

_ Please don’t let me be the reason we die. _

Maybe that was why Sakura was acting the way she was. If Hinata looked at herself objectively, she wasn’t acting normal either. Sasuke wasn’t acting normal. All his usual bravado was gone, his casual confidence and easy smirk. Utterly lacking was the confident tilt to his shoulders as he sat at Hinata’s side, the surety to every action that he usually had in abundance – perhaps even overabundance – that she couldn’t find no matter how much she searched.

Maybe it  _ was _ normal. For them to be so abnormal in the face of uncertain death. Hope told Hinata that there was a  _ chance _ for them to come out on top, if the Kiri-nin came back soon, if he knew where Tazuna-san lived, if Kakashi-sensei didn’t recover before that happened – but logic (fear?) screamed back that there wasn't.

And there was no world in which he didn’t know where Tazuna-san lived. Just as Team Seven was contract-bound to protect the bridge builder, the Kiri-nin was bound to kill him.  _ If _ he came back to try again was a hopeless fantasy that Hinata couldn’t afford to harbour.  _ When _ he came back, they would need to be ready.

As ready as they could.

The thought was still as cold as ice, hoarfrost that crept up under her ribcage and curled merciless fingers around her heart. Like contemplating her own death.

Maybe she was.

“I lied,” broke into her thoughts, and Hinata felt herself jolt and drop her chopsticks. Shame licked across her cheeks in the form of faint heat, that she’d been so easily startled. She was supposed to be a shinobi – she was supposed to be  _ protecting _ someone. She was representing Konoha.

Is that what they saw, these citizens of Waves, when they looked at her? At Sasuke and Sakura? Did they see a group of shinobi from a Great Village, ready to lay down their lives to defend them? Or did they see three terrified children and their sensei, wounded beyond even consciousness?

Hinata wanted to think that it was a possibility, that they were being perceived as the ninja they were supposed to be. She  _ wanted _ to; but she felt like a toddler, treading water desperately out of her depth.

Sasuke's words finally percolated through her mind, and Hinata felt her brow knit into a concerned frown. "You lied about what?" Kept her voice low and private.

"... I slept like crap." Equally as quiet. A pained swallow. "I had a… nightmare." And there was distaste, this time, a sense of anger that came with deepseated shame and could – all too easily – curdle into self-loathing.

Hinata scrambled for something to say. As familiar with nightmares as she was, she rather doubted that Sasuke had the same ones she did. “Do you want to talk about it?” The vaguest of memories, what little comfort she’d ever been able to offer Hanabi, before she’d grown too old to need it.

It was almost fear that flickered through Sasuke’s eyes as he thought about it – almost, but not quite. Deeper than that, darker than that. Whatever it was that Sasuke had dreamed about, it haunted him. After a few moments of visibly struggling, he just shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.” Muttered, so quietly that Hinata wasn’t certain it was even meant for her.

“... Me too.” Admitting it was better than the silence – even if it was only half-true. She couldn't remember the fear of whatever had drifted through her dreams, but she remembered the shadow of its shape. “That's… probably normal. Right? Considering…" Considering that they nearly died. Considering how much danger they were still in. Even Neji had haunted the halls of the Hyuuga compound, the first few nights after returning from his first dangerous mission with Itachi-sensei.

Conflict in Sasuke’s face when he turned it to her, obvious in the way his brows drew together, his eyes narrowed, but after a few moments he nodded. “... Yeah. Probably.” And maybe he was only agreeing for Hinata’s benefit, but if it applied to her then it applied to him too, and she was happy to be the reason it had to. She wasn’t good enough to meet the standard required of her as a Hyuuga, but Sasuke  _ could _ meet the Uchiha standards, and she doubted that they allowed for such weakness as being shaken by nightmares.

It didn’t matter if Hinata fell short of that. She always fell short.

…

By the time she went back up to Sakura with breakfast – or what amounted to it, despite that it was closer to lunch time – the food no longer felt like lead in her stomach. The world was still off balance, everything just a bit too wrong, but it felt a little better with Sasuke keeping watch on the perimeter. Sakura greeted her with a tired smile over Kakashi's still form.

"Thank you, Hinata." And her voice was gentle, as Hinata took the bowl to her and handed it over. There was something fundamentally recognisable in it, even if the shadow of her self-assumed command was still visible in her eyes. A thread of tension in Hinata’s chest  _ snapped,  _ like cotton pulled to breaking point.

However strange and difficult the situation was for them, it was equally so for her. Sakura was trying to cope with it in any way she could, in any way that might see them all through.

And it shouldn't be such a surprise, Hinata thought, sitting down by Sakura's side, that under such extreme stress as they were, that Sakura would take control. They'd seen it before, hints of it, on all the D-ranks they'd done over the months. The way she’d quietly organised them, how she’d taken note of their strengths somewhere in her head and knew how to put them to the best use.

When Kakashi-sensei stood back and watched them work D-ranks, Sakura quietly became their director, so subtle that somehow it was still a surprise when she did it loudly. Was it their fault for not expecting it? They should have been able to predict it – Sakura had taken no pains to hide her character from them. Hinata just hadn’t seen it, and she was starting to wonder if that had been deliberate.

Gently, Hinata ran her fingertips over the bandages on her arm; only slightly bloody, the gashes underneath half-sealed from Sakura’s efforts the night before. She hadn’t asked, neither at the time nor last night, how Sakura had known about the poison in the Kiri gauntlets, or that they carried an antidote for it. Hadn’t asked how Sakura knew all this medical ninjutsu; while many branch Hyuuga did take advantage of their newly granted chance to enrol in the Academy, it was not uncommon for them to become doctors or nurses in lieu of shinobi. The ability to properly use chakra was highly valued, even amongst noncombatant medical professionals.

Which meant that Hinata knew how complicated medical ninjutsu was. Not that she had no firsthand experience performing it, but it wasn’t something unfamiliar. For Sakura to know so much already – and with enough confidence to use it, even if the circumstance was so dire she had no real choice – meant that either someone had taught her, or…

_ Or she’s a genius. _

Maybe she was just that smart.

It hovered for a moment, at the tip of Hinata’s tongue; the question of how Sakura had learned medical techniques, how she'd known to give Hinata an antidote, who had even told her where to  _ find _ the antidote. When she'd learned how to give injections. It hovered, but Hinata didn't ask.

She didn't want to hear the answer that Sakura hadn't known at all. That she'd just guessed it. Easier to believe that Sakura was a secret prodigy than to hear that she was gambling with their lives.

There weren't any good alternatives, but Hinata still didn't want to know.

"Inari-kun and Tazuna-san told us why he came to Konoha." She said it quiet, and something hard and angry flickered through Sakura's eyes. Just for a moment. Just a flash. Maybe Hinata was imagining it – she was tired and still wounded – but maybe she wasn't. "A man named Gatō took over and… terrorised everyone."

Hinata wasn’t sure how to describe the look that settled on Sakura’s face. Dark and unsettled and pensive. When she finally responded, she sounded calm; almost eerily serene. Shivers ran out across Hinata’s skin, an echo of fear in its wake, too closely reminded of her father. “Is he the one who sent Zabuza after us?”

Confusion burned into understanding, but context clues didn’t explain how Sakura knew the  _ name _ of their attacker. “Zabuza?” An easy confusion to correct.

Sakura shook her head. “He’s in the Konoha bingo book.” Suspicion crept under the edges of Hinata’s thoughts. “Sorry, I should have said earlier. I wasn’t thinking. He’s an s-rank missing-nin.” A shiver of tight anxiety reflected in Sakura’s voice, too.

“How did you get hold of a bingo book?”

For a fraction of a second, Sakura’s eyes went wide; then, so fast Hinata couldn’t be sure she hadn’t imagined it, Sakura gave a soft, forced laugh. “My best friend is Yamanaka Ino, remember?” Said with a slight but genuine smile, affection plain in her voice.

All at once, the nervous paranoia puddled into cold guilt in Hinata’s gut. “I’m sorry.” It was senselessly unfair to feel suspicious of Sakura, no matter what skills she displayed or how she changed under such intense pressure. Stress and fear did strange things to people, even when their lives weren’t in danger. The immensity of their current situation was infinitely harder than just protecting their own lives. They had a client depending on them – a family, a village. A nation.

_ Don’t be dramatic, Hinata. _

She couldn’t actually tell if she was, but it helped – just a tiny bit – to pretend. If everything wasn’t so dire, then it wouldn’t matter so much when Hinata screwed it up. And she would, she had no doubt. Were it not so terrifying, it might have been funny. Hysterically, horrifyingly funny.

“Hey,” broke gently into Hinata’s thoughts, and she startled as cool fingers laced delicately with her own. “Don’t get into your own head, okay?” Sakura told her, catching her gaze. A faint smile played on her lips, strained and unhappy, a glitter of despair in her eyes. It must have been so obvious, the suspicion Hinata couldn’t fully suppress. It must hurt. “I know this is hard, but we can do this.” Could they? “You’re tough enough to do this with us.”

_ No, I’m not. _ But it was easier to let the encouragement wash over her. It was easier to listen, to do as she was told. If Sakura was going to be their leader while Kakashi-sensei couldn’t, then Hinata would follow her. There was no room for distrust in Team Seven.

Hinata squeezed Sakura’s hand. “Okay.”

* * *

It wasn’t even dark yet, but Sakura’s nerves would wait no longer. It had barely been a day since Zabuza had first attacked; while there was no way to be sure when he’d come back to finish the job, it still got closer with every minute Sakura sat idle. With Haku so badly injured, it wasn’t unreasonable to expect a delay in his next attempt – Zabuza cared for them, even if he tried not to – but she couldn’t take that gamble when the wager was their lives.

The sooner she acted, the better.

Even with Kakashi still unconscious, even with Hinata injured and Sasuke as shaken and angry as he was, even leaving them to defend themselves for the duration… it was better this way. If she left now, she could be done before sunrise. If she was extremely lucky, she could be done  _ hours _ before. As dangerous as it was to cut their fighting force down even further, it would only get more so the longer Sakura dallied.

So, an hour before sunset, Sakura made sure Kakashi was sleeping more naturally than before, checked his vital signs one last time, and then crossed her fingers to create a clone. Any alarm system was better than none. If anything happened, Sakura could make it back from her destination in five minutes flat. Faster, perhaps, if she really pushed herself.

Curse her adolescent body and its narrow limits.

“Good luck,” her clone murmured as she settled in place at Kakashi’s side, and Sakura spared a sardonic huff for herself. It wasn’t like she could claim to have  _ never _ kept herself company with a shadow clone before, but it still felt oddly childish to wish herself luck like this. Like she was acting as her own imaginary friend.

Sakura didn’t bother to reply as she climbed up the wall and wriggled her way out of the window.  _ Okay, maybe being small again isn’t  _ **_all_ ** _ bad. _ If there were only minor upsides to be found, then all the more reason to hold onto them as tight as she could.

The team was fraying under her, and she had no one to blame but herself. She could have stopped this doomed mission from even happening, and failing that she had done so much wrong already. Kakashi was worse off than he’d been the first time around (and it took every scrap of self-control Sakura had to stop herself dwelling on that, on how he was worse off even beyond the scope of this mission), and Hinata was wounded and terrified. Sakura wasn’t sure Sasuke even trusted her anymore – and she wasn’t sure he was wrong. Just because she had their best interests at heart didn’t mean she was doing right by lying to them.

Once she fixed the mess she’d made, once they’d gotten home safely, she’d do better. She  _ had _ to do better, because the dangers mounting up before them would only get steeper and deadlier, and she couldn’t afford to make mistakes like this again. Not with the Akatsuki. Not with Juubi, or Obito—

Phantom hands closed on her chest and squeezed so hard she couldn’t breathe, and Sakura tripped over the icy rush of it. The streets were sparsely populated this late in the day, but the few other people walking them didn’t even give her a second look as she slowly picked herself up.  _ Not now. Worry about it later, Sakura. _ She couldn’t think about Obito now – she couldn’t think about any of it now, not Obito or his lunatic ambitions or how it would affect Kakashi or how badly it would hurt Naruto or how if she didn’t find a way to stop it, then none of it would even matter because they’d be  _ dead _ and the world would  _ burn— _

Eyes scrunched shut, Sakura wound her fingers into her own hair and  _ pulled. _ It wasn’t a sharp movement, and she held too much hair at once to actually pluck it, but the strain spread and turned into dull pain as she pulled harder. A few moments later, she let out her breath as slowly as she could and let go, putting her hands at her sides and keeping them there.

Not now. The Akatsuki and everything else would wait. Right now, all that mattered was this mission – the rest meant nothing if she or her team died here.

Sakura spent the rest of her walk lost inside her own head, running through tactics and her own arsenal and wishing she knew the layout of the building. She’d be able to map it out once she got there without a problem, of course, but it was just more time that she didn’t have to spare. Every moment she spent away from Team Seven was a moment that she couldn’t protect them.

_ Stop it. _ Thinking like that would only slow her down. Doing what she was doing right now  _ was _ protecting them.

She felt naked without her hitai-ite as she made her way through the village; leaving it behind was the right decision, to make sure she attracted no attention for being a shinobi, but it still felt wrong. As awful as it had been, as overwhelming and terrifying as war was, there was something to be said for the solidarity she’d enjoyed from the Allied Shinobi Forces. It was something she missed terribly, every time she felt alone.

And she was always alone, a secret in a timeline that didn’t recognise her.

Loose as her hair was without her hitai-ite, it did a good job of covering her face even with how short she’d cut it – but she was still very conspicuous. Being a child wandering alone was enough that most people would probably remember her, but having hair the colour of cherry blossoms meant that she was rarely forgotten. As she got close, Sakura picked a little abandoned alley and slunk out of sight.

It had been a long time since she’d thought about Chika; years since Kakashi-sensei had spent months with her, constructing the harmless persona, building her face and her story and her character. So long ago that it felt like an entire lifetime. In a way, if she let herself be aggravatingly technical, it was.

But as far away as that quiet winter was, it took only a few moments to picture the face in her mind. Older than Sakura had ever gotten to be, firmer of jaw and longer of nose than her own face, the softest of crow’s feet framing the corners of piercing grey eyes. With a shimmer of chakra, Sakura put her hands together and shook out the henge, feeling her hair grow long around her shoulders and tumble down her back. Darkness flowed like ink as her hair turned black, and a moment later Sakura found herself thirty centimetres taller and quite a few kilograms heavier. Her first step nearly unbalanced her – no amount of mental familiarity made it easier to adjust to suddenly being in a body so drastically different from her own.

Deep breath. Acclimating to being Chika again (did it count as  _ again _ if she’d never done it in this timeline before?) would take a few minutes, and merely being built differently was only the half of it. While Sakura hadn’t dared to accessorise her fabricated persona with high-heeled shoes, Chika’s footwear was fully closed and tighter than Sakura’s own. Long sleeves of soft and flexible but clingy fabric turned her arms lilac, connected to a matching bodice, and then puffed out into wide ruffles that fell in cascades halfway down her calves.

"Oh— Whoops." Voice deeper and frailer than her own – disconcerting to hear it come out of her own mouth, even though she remembered designing it.

Considerable time and effort went into flawlessly replicating the form and feel of whatever or whoever a shinobi chose to henge into. It took intimate knowledge to be completely indistinguishable from the original; but copying the shape of something was still easier than constructing a henge from scratch. Many failed attempts and endless refinement of every little facet of the brand new body being created – but worth every scrap of it, in the end.

Sakura shook herself again, focusing the mental image that served as the basis of Chika's henge. The dress darkened into mottled dark greys and blues, the fluffy skirt of it getting slightly less so, shortening to her knees. It couldn't go fully flat without revealing the weapons hidden on her thigh, but Sakura narrowed it down as far as she dared. Some assassin she would make if her attempts at stealth were ruined by rogue frills.

Several laps of the alleyway later, Sakura felt confident enough in Chika's body to continue with her actual objective. As nice as it was to sink into something so familiar, she couldn't let it distract her. Their lives were in danger.

And besides, if she let herself think about it too much then it only threatened to rip her apart from the inside. How much she missed  _ her  _ Kakashi-sensei. How badly she wanted to relax on his couch on a lazy afternoon and tease him.

She'd never again get to indulge in it. Even if she eventually earned the trust and friendship of this timeline's Hatake heir, it wouldn't be the same. He wasn't the same.

Her Kakashi was gone. He'd been slain in a war that only existed in her mind, and there was no getting him back. If she dwelt on it, then despair would swallow her whole. How desperately she wished her Naruto was here, or her Ino, or even her Sasuke, as fucked up and impossible as her relationship with him had been.

For a moment, guilt chewed through her and eclipsed all else. At least she still had the chance to heal some of the wounds this Kakashi bore; still got to witness Sasuke live without the burden of his clan’s blood, still got to find stolen moments of serenity with Ino. She didn’t even know where Naruto was.

Six months in, and he was lost, and she hadn’t even started trying to find him.

_ Enough. _

Her thoughts had to end here, because she had a task to do instead.

There were eyes on her as she approached Gatō's offices, none particularly well hidden, the most obvious of which was a man leaning against the front door. He leered at her as she got close, and under Chika's skin, Sakura felt her own crawl. “Th’ fuck do you want?” Snapped at her as she came level and halted, while he pushed off the door to stand his full height. A hard ball of scorn coalesced in her sternum, an anchor to cling onto in the midst of everything else.

How pathetic it always was, watching grown men peacock as if their bullying was impressive. Every friend that Sakura had could have killed him blindfolded and handcuffed. The man was lucky that Sakura wasn’t here for him, and had no craving for public bloodshed. Instead of ripping his head off, Sakura put an expression of fear onto Chika’s face and dropped her gaze. “Nothing.”

She hadn’t expected a nicer reception, but it was always worth seeing how they’d respond if she simply approached the front door. She’d lost track of how many times she’d heard Kakashi – her Kakashi – complain about missions made harder than they needed to be, simply because the shinobi completing it didn’t try the front door.

In this case, though, as she slunk away and around the building, her skills at breaking and entering were going to be required.  _ Well… _ Less ‘breaking’ and more ‘entering’ if she wanted to get the job done with any degree of stealth. Actually breaking buildings tended to leave an impression.

Useful for causing a distracting ruckus, or when she had full backup; much less so when she was out on her own and her team was halfway to the afterlife already. The back of the building wasn’t outright guarded, though Sakura rather suspected that Gatō had more bodyguards wandering his halls. It was a paranoia that everyone in such a position eventually grew into – admittedly, with good reason. She was, after all, here to kill him.

It didn’t take long, loitering at the back of the building, for the sun to dip below the horizon. Eyeing the wall, Sakura sent out a chakra pulse to check everyone’s positions around her. Not entirely reliable, not when she wasn’t at optimal performance and she was trying to locate civilians. Untrained as their chakra nexuses were, it was possible for some of them to have signatures so weak as to escape detection.

But she found nothing in her immediate vicinity, so with one more visual sweep around her, Sakura coated her hands and feet in chakra and began climbing. She crept around the first window she encountered, keeping flat to the wall as if she was rock-climbing; the less her silhouette stood out in the fading light, the less attention she’d attract. It didn’t matter overmuch if she  _ was _ spotted – the reason for Chika’s henge – but her task would be easier the longer she went unseen.

The second window caught her interest for a few moments, peeking through the corner of it. A single guard wandered the hallway beyond it, lined with closed doors with polished plaques flashing in the yellow electrical lights. Sakura ducked back from the window and climbed up to the third floor.

It was a safe bet that she would find Gatō’s main office on the top floor. People like him always liked to be literally on the top. When she reached the relevant window, a good twelve metres above the ground, she kept to the side and considered her plan of action; though there were blinds in place to dim it, light shone through in streaks from the room beyond, a bright yellow that dirtied the black-painted exterior into a muddy brown. Focusing her ears with a thin spool of chakra, Sakura could hear the swish of clothes and the murmur of two— three voices within. This was the room she was aiming for, then; she couldn’t remember what Gatō’s voice sounded like after so many years, but there was a vague sense of recognition somewhere under her skin as she listened to the people inside speak. Even so, Sakura studied the window itself and bit her lip. Going in this directly would be suicide unless she made a big show of it.

Attracting that much attention might offer a different target to her enemies, but despite her inherited paranoia she didn’t truly expect Zabuza to return quite so soon. They’d made the whole trip here from their initial encounter undisturbed – if Zabuza hadn’t turned after them as soon as Haku could no longer hinder the fight, then they probably had a couple of days of lenience at least.

If not to create a deliberate distraction, then the commotion she’d cause by bursting in through an obviously policed point was not only dangerous as hell but put her whole team and Konoha’s reputation at risk. Just because none of the signatures within the building had shown a chakra presence worth a damn didn’t mean that she was automatically in the clear. They didn’t need skill to take down an opponent, no matter how strong she was or how much she outclassed Gatō and his thugs. They only needed one lucky shot. Even the flimsiest resistance could kill her if she got careless or unlucky.

_ Not to mention they could be hiding their chakra. _ The voice in the back of her head wasn’t quite her own – lower, a sweeter baritone than she was growing ever more used to. It felt like warm sunlight on her skin and the cool autumn breeze in her hair.

Sakura shoved it away.  _ Doubtful, from what I remember. _ That was more herself; but even so, she crept around the building towards a different side, keeping silent, and readied another thin chakra pulse to fish out any potential lurkers. Gatō himself had never been a particularly fearsome opponent, and even though his lickspittles were strong enough to violently bully civilians, Sakura was easily capable of taking out each and every one of them should the situation demand it.

The problem was that it  _ hadn’t, _ the first time around; in her previous timeline, Team Seven had barely encountered Gatō himself, and the most she’d seen of his crew had been when Zabuza had torn through them all to kill their leader following Haku’s death.

Guilt spasmed through Sakura’s chest at the thought, and she held her breath to arrest it. It didn’t matter whether she thought Haku deserved death or not – they’d stood against her team, and her team had eviscerated them. If they lived or not was not her concern – and even if it was, it was far from her most pressing one. She could think about it later, when she’d gotten Team Seven through this mission alive. Always, their lives came before all others.

All of which meant that while she considered it a safe gamble, Sakura couldn’t say for  _ certain _ that Gatō wasn’t hiding chakra-capable cronies amongst the rabble guarding him and his headquarters, and so she had to operate as if the possibility was more likely than she really thought. Better to take a little longer and eliminate the chance of ambush than to bank on her own superiority and let arrogance slit her throat.

Two more rejected windows later, and Sakura finally found a dark one. A brief examination revealed a paltry locking mechanism on the inside of it; she wouldn’t even need the carefully honed lockpicking skills she’d nagged Kakashi-sensei into teaching her, one of the many (too few) lazy summer afternoons they’d shared following her promotion to chūnin. One senbon slipped easily into the narrow gap, and she slid it across the windowsill until the lock flipped open with a soft clatter. As Sakura put the senbon back in the small pocket of her kunai holster – silently cursing the folds of fabric that hung around her legs to conceal it – she evaluated her point of entry.

She was going to have to let go of her henge if she wanted to fit through without anything catching. Chika was fit enough to allow Sakura an inconspicuous level of activity as needed, but she was no shinobi and her body had been built to reflect that. Voluptuous curves served well when trying to gain the trust of strangers, but they were less suited to stealth – and no matter how carefully Sakura familiarised herself with Chika’s shape, she was simply not experienced with sneaking around as her alter ego.

A slow breath and a puff of smoke as the chakra layers maintaining her transformation vapourised, and Sakura was in her own skin again, the red of her clothes brighter in the halflight than those she’d given Chika. It took another breath, cold and rattling under her ribs, to adjust back. Too long had passed since she’d last had need of Chika; the past half-year notwithstanding, it had been months of war and battle preparation as the Akatsuki and Juubi had loomed before them. Almost more disorienting to pop back into her proper form, than it had been to take up Chika’s in the first place. Her ears rang softly as she thickened the chakra that kept her stuck to the vertical surface and shook herself.

Only as she pulled the window open and slipped through it did she manage to put coherent thought to the strange sensation of dropping her henge. Some part of her still expected to pop back into the body she’d left behind. At twelve, she was shorter and lankier than she had been at eighteen, and no matter how much strength training Kakashi put her through, she just didn’t have the same muscle definition she was used to. It wasn’t really  _ possible _ until her body aged a bit more.

Sakura bottled the thought with an annoyed frown as she dropped to her feet in the dark room, letting her knees bend to absorb what little impact she made and staying in the low crouch she ended up in. Chakra application could sharpen an average shinobi’s night vision, but she was no Hyuuga; if pushed too far, the chakra in her eyes would blow the chakra vessels and probably blind her before it would improve her night vision beyond less fuzzy monochrome. Still, less fuzzy was all she really needed, no matter whether she could perceive colour in such low light.

The room she’d ended up in seemed like storage. Narrow and surprisingly long in its own right, the outer wall was lined with filing cabinets that stood taller than she did, and carried identical labels. She could make out the faint shadow of them against the darker metal they hung on, but even as she straightened up and squinted, she couldn’t read them. No matter. Sakura wasn’t interested in Gatō’s paperwork – no doubt a good portion of it was blackmail, anyway.

Something tripped in the back of her head, and she hesitated in her careful steps, one foot hovering just off the floor. Maybe she  _ should _ be interested in the blackmail. It never hurt to have an advantage, and though most of it was likely worthless to her – Konoha had no need for blackmail to exert power over such a small and disenfranchised nation as the Land of Waves – there was always the chance that something held value.

If Gatō had enticed Zabuza’s employment with something more than coin, for example, then he very well could have dirt on other people who actually mattered.

Sakura frowned at herself, setting her foot back on the floor, and studied the cabinets. That was unfair of her, marking all the oppressed civilians around her as unimportant. Just because they didn’t participate in the end of the world – or the attempt to prevent it – didn’t make their lives meaningless. Their lives were the  _ whole reason _ the Allied Shinobi Forces had fought so bitterly in the first place. She didn’t get to write them off just because they weren’t part of her social circle. Or her not-so-social circle.

The mental voice that told her so sounded suspiciously like Naruto.

_ Focus, Sakura. _ She could have a moral crisis later. Right now what mattered was eliminating Zabuza’s reasons for attacking Tazuna, and consequently her team.

There was a safe at the far end of the room, noted as she made her way to the door, but Sakura ignored it. Who knew what was inside it, but whether it was gold or jewels or information, it didn’t matter. She could always break into it on her way out if her curiosity demanded. Instead she slunk right up to the door, turned her head, and pressed her ear against it. Thin yellow light spilled in from under the door, so the other side was certainly lit, but Sakura couldn’t be sure what kind of space it was. Her gut instinct said that it was probably a hallway, but it could just as easily be something else.

Another thin pulse of chakra didn’t bounce back anyone in her immediate vicinity, and all paranoia aside she couldn’t sit here and dither, so Sakura pressed the fingers of her free hand against the seam between door and frame and then turned the handle. Slight pressure against the edge countered her own attempt to pull it open, and ever so slowly the door inched open without a sound. Only a sliver, barely a crack, but enough for Sakura to peer through. There was no one directly on the other side, so she edged the door open a centimetre more and looked further.

It was a hallway as she’d expected, ugly yellow lights hanging from the ceiling in regular intervals, functionally identical to the hall she’d noted on the floor below down to the shiny plaques that labelled each room, bar that there were fewer of them than she’d counted downstairs.

To her right, facing the other wall and slouching against the door he guarded, one man in undyed leathers stood sentry; what little Sakura could see of his face suggested boredom, but she was still lucky that the door she had opened was on the same side as him. If she’d been opposite him, there was almost no chance he’d have failed to notice the movement. Well— granted the assumption of basic competency, and Sakura rather doubted that Gatō’s men deserved such an assumption, but she had to make it for the sake of her own safety.

Still, he  _ would _ notice her when she stepped out, so Sakura leaned back slightly and considered her approach. Not worth closing the door the fraction she’d opened it when she was simply going to open it again.

She’d have to be fast, once she revealed herself to the stationary guard. Presumably, the door he stood before led to Gatō’s personal office – the position lined up with the room she’d initially clocked as her target, if her spatial memory was serving accurately. If she was slow or she made too much noise, then her attack would alert the people inside it, and it would become a messy fracas no matter what she did. She had to be fast, but she had to be as quiet as possible, and then she had to choose whether to hide the guard or whether to take what advantages she could get and surprise her marks by bursting in then and there. It was a decision she couldn’t make for certain right now, before she’d even taken out the guard himself – it would be a split-second evaluation of the moment, based on how quietly she could neutralise him, on whether she thought she had the time to hide him first and recalculate her plan of attack for the office itself.

Could she afford to wait for the other people with Gatō (whom she presumed to be Gatō) to leave, or was the risk of losing her opportunity too great? No matter her skill or power, she was only one person; her disadvantage at being outnumbered meant she had to exercise every edge she could. The men weren’t stronger than her and they probably weren’t faster than her, but their reach was bigger and they were armed, and underestimating them could very well be her undoing. If Kakashi had taught her nothing else – and he’d taught her countless things – it was not to underestimate her foes. There was no shame in respecting even the weakest of battles, and arrogance was the swiftest and deadliest killer of them all.

Sakura eyed the sword that hung at the guard’s hip. Kakashi-sensei’s words wound through her thoughts, as they never failed to do.  _ A weapon you don’t know how to use is your enemy’s weapon. _

Did they know how to use their swords well? Sakura was no master of kenjutsu, but she could hold her own with a blade. Was it enough to beat Gatō’s men in a sword fight, if it came down to it?

Better not to have to find out.

Curling her fingers around a kunai and deciding not to ask herself when she’d drawn it, Sakura peeked out to check the guard’s position again. Getting to him quickly wasn’t in itself a challenge – Sakura might be six months out of practice and wielding an untrained body, but she could body flicker as reliably as any jōnin – but she had to be precise and she had to strike true. Her best chance for silence was to mangle the man’s ability to make noise as fast as possible, which meant that striking for the throat was her only good option.

For a moment, she let the plan play out in her mind. Open the door, shunshin in front of him, stab the kunai into his throat, and catch him so he didn’t hit the floor. Chakra hummed under her skin in anticipation of it, echoes of movement that she hadn’t yet made vibrating with her heartbeat.

It was always so different, coming into combat from a position of premeditation. More so than the difference between real combat and practice – knowing what was about to happen,  _ planning _ it, causing the violence rather than simply reacting to it— The adrenaline flooded her differently when she was attacking instead of defending, a rush that thundered in her ears and took her breath away but had nowhere to go, not yet, because she was still waiting to strike.

Should she feel bad for being the aggressor rather than the protector? It wasn’t as if she hadn’t killed her share of people, but her place in Konoha had been one of healing. Sakura first and foremost acted to keep her team safe, and to save them when that failed.

Maybe she should feel guilt, plotting out murder in cold-blooded clarity. Maybe it should disturb her the way she knew it would have disturbed Naruto, the way it disturbed this timeline’s native Sasuke.

She peered through the open door at the man she was about to kill, and wondered if she should feel hesitation, but the raw truth of it was that she didn’t. The grip of her kunai was warm in her palm, the fabric heated by her touch. A steadying breath, focusing on her target, letting the adrenaline sing, and Sakura moved. Chakra sparked as she opened the door fully and stepped out, carrying her to the guard before he could finish drawing a startled gasp; she overshot by a step, the technique new to her adolescent body, lighter than she was used to working with, but it wasn’t enough to spare the man her blade.

Black metal sank cleanly into the delicate folds of his throat, piercing the cartilage of his trachea and tearing apart his voicebox. Further, angled up, and there was no way that Sakura’s kunai would reach his brain but it punched back into his cervical vertebrae and crunched bone. The vibration went up Sakura’s fingers, stinging in her wrist, and she let go of her weapon entirely.

Blood seeped out around the wound, and a moment later more bubbled from the man’s lips on a pathetic gurgle. His hands lifted, grasping futilely at the knife, but his knees were already buckling as shock swept through him. He gaped at her as she caught his descent, mouth opening and closing in pointless gasps and frothing blood, his arms failing and dropping to his sides. Wide-eyed, like he couldn’t believe that he was suddenly dying. He probably couldn’t, Sakura noted distantly, a detached fragment of thought. His eyes were light brown. Almost amber.

He was unconscious by the time Sakura set him down in the room full of filing cabinets, oxygen starved as his lungs filled with blood and his attempts at breathing were ruined by her kunai and the damage it had done. When she pulled it from his neck, the pulses of blood that came after it were already weak. He’d be dead in minutes.

For a moment, just a second, Sakura stared at him. She should remember his face – should remember the people she killed, recognise the lives she ended. Keep  _ count, _ at the very least. Three, then.

_ Three. Do the people I killed in the other timeline count? Or only in this one? _

The question made the whole thing seem kind of moot. Even if the war hadn’t happened,  _ that _ Sakura had counted those patients she failed to save as marks on her tallied kills, and she’d lost count. Being the one inflicting the mortal blows, rather than simply being unable to fix them, didn’t feel all that different. It was a sense of obligation that made her study the man at her feet, something that felt more like a rule she’d almost forgotten than anything ethical. She was  _ supposed _ to remember those she killed – because Naruto would remember. Because not caring resulted in Sasuke. Because Kakashi had told them, so many times, that the lethal option was not their first resort. Because Tsunade-sensei had taught her to  _ save _ lives, not end them.

But staring at him, Sakura couldn’t find it in herself to care. He wasn’t some innocent child, he wasn’t defenceless, he wasn’t a random victim. She’d caused his death with reasoned calculation, and the value of his life simply didn’t measure up to what she’d had to weigh it against.

She could have taken him out non-lethally. It struck her like the peal of a bell, offhand and casual. There were plenty of ways she could have simply neutralised him.  _ Noisy. They take too long. _ Without the Hyuuga Kekkei Genkai there was no way to finesse an attack of raw chakra, but she could have even just grabbed him and shoved chakra into him.  _ Still too noisy. Besides which, that would probably kill him too, just slower. _ But she could have. She hadn’t  _ needed _ to kill him.

The observation was quiet, and still sounded like Naruto. Sakura clenched her jaw. Maybe she’d feel it later, when this was over, when they weren’t in such peril. For now, maybe the only thing she’d remember was the colour of his eyes.

Maybe that would have to be enough.

With the guard hidden and out of the way, Sakura turned her attention to the room itself. Barging straight in through the door was no better than coming in through the window would have been, and Sakura discarded the idea. Ears pricked for footsteps, she sidled back into the hall and approached the door, listening for the voices. If she could get an idea of what they were talking about, she might be able to get a feel for when Gatō’s guests might leave. The thought of  _ waiting _ made her skin crawl, but she’d left a shadow clone behind with her team and until it went off she had the time to spare. Rushing wouldn’t help anyone.

There was blood on her fingers as she lifted them to the plaque screwed to the wall by this door, but she touched them to the metal anyway.  _ Gatō’s Office _ engraved in curling script confirmed that she’d picked the right room; a weight she hadn’t realised she’d been carrying melted away, and Sakura allowed herself a single moment to close her eyes and sigh in relief. At least she didn’t have to go hunting for him further.

Glancing around, Sakura kept one ear on the conversation happening inside the office and contemplated her surroundings. If she was going to wait for the collateral to leave, then she was going to have to hide when they did, or she’d ruin the whole point of waiting in the first place. There was always the option of hiding in the storage room again, but it meant she couldn’t keep eyes on them safely, and she had to be wary of the possibility that Gatō would leave with them.

Her eyes found the floor, and she scowled. Waiting might not even be a viable option, her gaze following the streaks of blood that led from here to the storage room door.  _ Genin mistake. _ She couldn’t expect that nobody would notice the evidence of her kill, and she doubted she had the time to clean it up, let alone the proper tools to do so. If she was willing to burn chakra, perhaps a quick suiton would do the tri—

For a second, her senses switched off. A burst of memory hit her, the vague numbing aftertaste of chakra on her tongue as she recognised the delivery of her shadow clone’s experience. As always, the first input was sensory, flashing by between heartbeats.

The smell of scorched air and pervasive ocean brine. A scream like claws down the inside of her skull, her name lingering in its echo. Sasuke, on all fours under a broken sword, and Hinata blinking desperate tears from white eyes where she was held by the throat, half a metre off the ground. The sound of grim laughter.

Emotion came second, a blast of terror like she’d been bodychecked by Gai, and then it resolved. Her own senses coalesced, and Sakura found herself staring at Gatō’s door, shaking, vision blurred.

The sense of calm she’d indulged in evaporated, the facade of control shattered. She’d been wrong. Zabuza was back, he’d come to finish his assassination and wipe them out for trying to prevent it, and Sakura had banked on the fact that Zabuza wouldn’t pick such a strange timeframe between retreat and return and  _ she’d been wrong. _

Choice was a concept out of her grasp as Sakura kicked down the door and blew into the office like a storm. Her plans didn’t matter, her stealth didn’t matter, her safety didn’t matter. Mercy was something she could ponder another day.

Her team was defenceless against Zabuza, and it was her fault for leaving them that way. Nothing else mattered.

Kunai flew across the room, and the rumble of running footsteps came quickly after the shouts went up around her, but Sakura was numb to it. She could barely see through the flickering memory in her head, Hinata on the verge of asphyxiation, Sasuke bleeding on the ground.

She couldn’t be sure if Gatō cursed her or asked her for mercy. The whole room was a blur, blood on all sides, and it spurted again as her blade bit into Gatō’s neck. Tendons parted, muscle spasmed, metal scraped against bone and Sakura tweaked the angle, caught the edge between two vertebrae, and  _ shoved _ with all the chakra-infused strength she could.

The sword cut through Gatō’s spine and sheared off his head with all the resistance of melting snow, and Sakura stumbled as it came free. When had she taken a sword? It had to belong to one of the other two guards who’d been in here with him.

_ Who cares? _

That she had a sword meant nothing. That Gatō’s hair between her fingers felt like a thousand tiny needles  _ didn’t matter. _

Zabuza was attacking her team.

She’d been wrong.

_ I left them. _

The window shattered under her heel, and Sakura ignored the shards catching in her skin and clothes as she scrambled out of it, disregarded her dwindling chakra and broke into an unbroken string of sprinting body flickers back towards Tazuna’s house. Zabuza was a merciless foe and felt no remorse for the lives he took, but he wasn’t a monster. If he had no reason to attack Tazuna, he wouldn’t – if Team Seven weren’t standing in between Zabuza and his goals, they’d be safe from him. The only reason Zabuza had to kill the bridge builder was that Gatō had paid him to do it.

So, stolen sword in one hand and Gatō’s head in the other, Sakura fled blindly back towards her team.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stuff and Things and Stuff:  
> || Welp, this is like a month late. Oops. I don't really have an excuse but fuck, I guess.  
> || For how easily Sakura is killing; please remember that the first timeline that she's coming from ended in a long and brutal war that _her side lost_ and she has in fact watched almost everyone she loves die. She's a bit less concerned about the morality of it this time around.  
> || Okay I'm going to give myself another deadline for the next chapter and try to keep it. No promises, we'll see what happens, but hopefully it'll be of some actual value this time.
> 
> Next Chapter Due: **6th November 2020**


	11. Bargains Are Best Made With a Blade in Hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone runs out of luck - and chakra - eventually.

He thought it was another nightmare, at first.

_ Hoped, _ more like.

It felt like one, watching the fog that rolled in without warning, the dread that burned through the bottom of his stomach like an ember, the hollow sensation caught somewhere between despair and resignation. Overwhelming and unnerving, the dizzying rush of clarity that swept through him when he blinked on his Sharingan, the way the fog lit up with chakra. His voice sounded like someone else’s as he shouted for his teammates, their pounding footsteps like distant echoes as they hurtled out to meet him.

All his senses crashed back into painful reality as a sword cleaved out of the unnatural mist, barely catching him across the back and knocking him to his knees. The cry it tore out of him was muted, and matched by Sakura’s gasp and Hinata’s hiss; before he could raise his voice against it, Hinata had bolted forward. With such speed that it was almost  _ contemptuous, _ her attempt to engage their enemy was rewarded with a hand around her throat and her feet leaving the ground.

She kicked, fruitlessly, just the same impotent resistance that Sasuke had offered in her place. Almost automatically, Sasuke looked back towards their last teammate. Zabuza only had two hands, after all.

Sakura met his gaze, eyes glittering with panic, and then she vanished in a puff of smoke and chakra.

Terror, for a moment, a raw and searing wave that erupted from his chest outwards under his skin, as if he were being flayed. And then anger, a second later; pale frothing rage that swept clean through the fear, and left behind an icy emptiness.

_ A clone. _

Sakura had left them.

She’d  _ left them, _ and they were all that stood between Zabuza and his target – and worse, Kakashi.

It hadn’t been long enough to fully restore him, but Sasuke felt a hundred times better today than he had right after the fight yesterday, so he drew chakra into his limbs and threw himself forward. He could still feel the pain in his back, a wet heat that soaked through his shirt and inevitably stained red the white fan of the Uchiha crest stitched into it. Twinges spasmed through him as he collided with Zabuza’s legs, staying low to the ground to keep from clipping against the blade again where it hung over him.

With one hand on the sword’s hilt and Hinata suspended in the other, the Kiri-nin couldn’t stop Sasuke from hitting him. Sasuke’s weight alone would have never been enough to destabilise their enemy, but chakra burned through his legs and burst from his feet as he impacted, and as he continued to push he felt Zabuza’s stance slide.

A series of thuds heralded that Hinata had been dropped, followed by the raw sound of desperately gasped air, but Sasuke tried to ignore it and didn’t let up. Muscles flexed against his grip, and a sense of motion sparked through intangible senses that Sasuke couldn’t name; details leapt out from everywhere in lines of white fire, and he knew without quite understanding how that Zabuza was going to turn just so and sink the blade through his side.

Premonition hit him, so violently that it felt physical, and Sasuke saw with absolute certainty that the sword held enough power to sunder him entirely.

Twisting, feeling his chakra dip as he forced another surge through his legs and out the tenketsu in his heels, Sasuke grabbed a handful of Zabuza’s shirt to serve as an anchor point and spun around him. For a fleeting moment they were back to back, and Sasuke took in the expanse of fog above them, glowing brilliant blue with infused chakra.

In the next second, Sasuke landed on his feet on Zabuza’s other side. Without the resistance of his body, the sword carved the air; where she’d tumbled to the ground, Hinata fought frantically for breath. No time for her to react. Panic and relief flashed through Sasuke in equal measure as the slanted end clipped her shoulder. Blood splattered and Hinata let out a shrill cry of pain – but if Kakashi-sensei hadn’t sundered the blade in their first fight, she’d be dead instead of wounded.

“He’s alone,” forced through Hinata’s teeth as she scrambled back from their attacker; a glance confirmed the glow of concentrated chakra in her eyes and temples, Byakugan active.

_ Alright. _ There was no real plan – no chance to properly strategise or analyse – but Sasuke trusted Hinata’s call. At least they didn’t have to worry about anyone else slipping past them in the fight; Sasuke was sure that if they had to split their focus off Zabuza to protect Kakashi-sensei, they’d all simply perish.

Hinata was getting to her feet, her now doubly wounded arm tucked tight against her chest, dripping fresh blood, eyes narrow and teeth clenched. As dangerous as it was to her continued future use of it, Sasuke was almost glad that Zabuza had hit the arm already injured from their last fight. It meant that she still had the immediate use of her other one. And they’d need every scrap of it to stand even the shadow of a chance.

As he danced a few steps away and Hinata turned slightly to the side, presenting her good hand palm-first, fingers held gently straight in the Jūken pose Sasuke had grown so familiar with, Zabuza started to laugh. Low at first, scornful and cutting, and then louder, bouncing back from the chakra-filled fog on all sides. Despite himself, Sasuke felt the tension wither into fear, a heavy ache that was almost fatigue, dragging him down.

Zabuza had taken out Kakashi-sensei. What chance did they have against him?

The unsettling premonition struck again, a conviction that rolled through his mind like a visual echo. Chakra blew out from his feet and Sasuke sprang back blindly into the artificial mist, watching the end of the sword pass through the space where he’d just been. He had only a moment to contemplate that before his feet touched the ground— no, something cold and wet— and all of Sasuke’s senses were eclipsed as he fell into the water and fully submerged.

_ Fuck, fuck. _

He hadn’t realised he’d moved so far out from the house; even for as close to the embankment as Tazuna and his family lived, it had felt like less distance to cross than he remembered. Maybe it was the fog, seeping into his thoughts, screwing up his vision. Even with the Sharingan he couldn’t see further than his own arm’s length.

Clambering onto the surface of the inlet wasn’t an entirely simple task, sheathing his hands and feet in chakra to repel against the water tension and hold him afloat – but it was, at least, a familiar one. A solid week of practice at chakra-walking followed by being chased across the river at every opportunity meant that muscle memory kicked in as Sasuke hauled himself to his feet. He couldn’t see Zabuza through the fog, even though he couldn’t have jumped back more than a few metres, but the sound of his laughter cut chills into Sasuke’s chest all the same.

Sasuke carded a hand through his hair, trying to slick it back out of his face. It shook.  _ Keep it together.  _ Hinata was still on Zabuza’s other side, and wounded at that. As capable as he knew her to be, right now they were outclassed and every disadvantage mattered. “Hinata?!” Shouted into the mist. Sasuke was really starting to loathe it – if it didn’t put himself and Hinata at the most risk, he’d consider trying to set the chakra forming it alight.

“I’m fine!” came back through the haze, and it brought with it a flash of relief but Sasuke knew better than to relax. Who knew if Zabuza could see through the white murk but Sasuke sure as shit couldn’t, even with the Sharingan. He was practically a sitting d—  _ “Go left!” _

The movement was automatic, meaning registering before the words themselves did, and Sasuke threw himself to the left. It was a messy dodge, chakra splashing from his palms as he scrambled against the shifting water, but the glint of Zabuza’s sword passed through the surface and his shape became a shadow in the mist. Close enough to track, just barely; there was a faint gleam to the silhouette, more condensed chakra than what floated through Zabuza’s fog.

Close enough to track, but even as Zabuza came closer Sasuke couldn’t pick out where the sword was, couldn’t see where he was going to attack until it was—

“Sasuke, jump!”

Sasuke jumped.  _ She can see through it. _ Which made sense, of course, that Hinata wasn’t hindered by the blinding fog, even if it was a little aggravating. What good was having the damn Sharingan if it was so easily defeated?

And still, midair, when Hinata shouted  _ “Grab his arm!” _ Sasuke didn’t hesitate. He couldn’t waste too much more chakra, but a short expulsion was enough to make contact and he dug his fingers in. Zabuza snarled as Sasuke clung on, lifting his free arm and the sword held in his hand – a moment later there was the muffled sound of flesh striking flesh. Behind their enemy, Sasuke could make out a small shadow, brimming with chakra.

There was a splash, and another angry snarl in Sasuke’s ear. The broken sword sank into the water, Zabuza’s left arm hanging uselessly at his side. Hinata had struck him in the shoulder and sealed the tenketsu within.

Before Sasuke could even process the brief rush of triumph he felt fingers closing around his ankle, squeezing tight enough to feel it grind, and abject terror took its place. For a flash, he could feel the choking grip around his throat again, the ache of black bruises that throbbed as he swallowed.  _ Hinata, hit him again! _ But he couldn’t find the air to verbalise the thought, and a second later he watched the world spin around him, white fog and the faintest flickers of water.

Pain broke out along his shoulder and side as Zabuza flung him, his body connecting violently with Hinata’s, and he lost sight of the Kiri-nin in the mist. Hinata whimpered as they flew back towards the shore; shock or pain, or both. Sasuke couldn’t quite tell.

It was undeniably pain as they hit the ground together, rolling over one another as they skidded. He heard her let out a moan over the sound of his own, but his thoughts came to a static standstill as – louder than either of them – he heard something  _ crack. _

The fog was starting to thin as Sasuke untangled his limbs from his teammate’s, dissolving at what had to be Zabuza’s command.  _ It must blind him as well. _ Enough practice, and being good at detecting chakra, and he probably didn’t even need to see to defeat opponents who were equally as blind. With Hinata’s Byakugan and direction, Zabuza lost that advantage. It only made sense that he’d let it disperse now.

But it meant that whatever advantage they’d had, they’d lost it.

Hinata let out a strangled cry as Sasuke disentangled them, and despite himself Sasuke took his eyes off Zabuza. Laid out in a sideways mess on the ground, Hinata had her eyes scrunched shut, the chakra veins that fed her Byakugan smooth and invisible once more. Teeth clenched, she quieted into roughly panted whimpers, and a twitch of movement – as if to curl into foetal position – was quickly aborted while she bit down on a louder sound.

Her already-injured arm was underneath her body, where she lay half on her side and half on her front, head turned sideways and tucked down to her chest. One leg rested on the other, and while it seemed to be fine, half bent so her foot came part way towards her butt, the leg underneath was  _ wrong, _ somehow. The details jumped out as he scoured his Sharingan over her, catching the bubble of blood at her lips, the tremble in her shoulders, the odd angle of the leg underneath and the way she was trying to lift her weight off it without getting up.

Sasuke didn’t have enough knowledge about medicine or anatomy to know exactly what was wrong, but the sum of it was obvious to anyone: Hinata was badly hurt.

After the precious seconds it took for Sasuke to document her state and come to that conclusion, there came a moment of panicked wondering, trying to decide what to do and how to protect her. He was already rising to his feet, body aching where they’d collided – but Hinata had taken the brunt of the impact, had landed between Sasuke and the ground. Bodywide aches were better than broken bones or internal injuries. If Sasuke was any judge, Hinata probably had both.

It was too long to spend unfocused on the fight.

Hinata’s eyes came open, shimmering with tears, just as Sasuke heard Zabuza’s approach and turned to face him. Muscles contracted and Sasuke felt himself moving before he could offer any conscious input, but he couldn’t dodge across Hinata without risk, and even as his arms came up to shield his face, Zabuza made contact in a furious roundhouse. Taking the hit against both forearms spared his skull, but the force knocked Sasuke clean into the air again. One heel clipped Hinata somewhere as he flew over her, dragging a squeal of pain from her, and then all sound was eclipsed by the thunderous rumble of yet again tumbling along the dirt. Something caught against his right arm, locked in position to protect his head, and Sasuke growled as the skin tore.

Ears ringing, dizziness making the world spin, an irregular shudder pulsing through his body, Sasuke pushed himself up to his hands and knees and looked for Zabuza’s inevitable followup. Too slow,  _ too slow, _ and still Zabuza let him lift his gaze from grey shoes, up the attached leg warmers and past his waistline, trying to process the flickering red and white edges that outlined everything.

Halfway through gasping in a breath, Zabuza closed heavy fingers around Sasuke’s neck and dragged him up from the ground. Panic sheared through the pain, his heart a tangible drumbeat inside his own chest, and even as the reflex to scrabble at Zabuza’s hand kicked in, he felt his Sharingan blink off. The grey fabric of Zabuza’s matching arm warmers was even duller in the aftermath – or was that the oxygen deprivation?

_ No— Fight! _ He couldn’t give up like this, couldn’t leave Hinata where she lay defeated, couldn’t leave Kakashi-sensei vulnerable inside Tazuna’s house.

Tsunami was in there. Inari was in there. A civilian kid, barely eight years old; they were probably watching the fight, praying. They probably knew their survival depended on Sasuke and Hinata – which meant that, just like Inari had predicted, they probably knew that they were doomed.

Anger burned underneath the terror, a dim and distant flame, but enough to catch on the adrenaline cascading through him and ignite. Gritting his teeth as he fought for air, Sasuke fixed his gaze on Zabuza’s face and sought after the feeling he remembered from their first fight. Cold hatred stared back at him.

From beyond the Kiri-nin, her voice jagged and wet, Hinata called. “Don’t—! Sas…uke…”

For a moment, like a burst of red static in reverse, Sasuke lit up his Sharingan again, and the sensation flowed down to his hands even as it guttered and died. The world behind their enemy was starting to darken, Zabuza’s focus on cutting the bloodflow to and from his brain rather than the much slower method of asphyxiating him – it didn’t matter. Without the wherewithal to worry about it anymore, Sasuke let the unfamiliar series of seals run through his hands.

Dark brown eyes dropped from Sasuke’s face, narrowed at what they found, and then widened as chakra jolted to life in Sasuke’s palm. Pale blue light shone outwards as the sound of screaming sparrows overwhelmed all thought, and a fraction of a second later Sasuke spasmed as electricity ripped up his arm. Everything went white. He couldn’t hear the choked cry but he felt it swell and burst in his chest, aborted by Zabuza’s grasp.

He meant to attack, even if the memory of Haku’s body around his hand made him want to peel his own skin off like a glove, meant to drive the lightning into Zabuza’s elbow and ruin his other arm too – but instead the backlash made his heart stutter and it didn’t matter that he struggled against the sudden movement or found he could suddenly gulp in a frantic breath, because the world was rotating wildly around him. Cutting chakra to the jutsu didn’t stop the convulsive aftershocks or the flare of nausea.

Sasuke managed to open his eyes, all his senses aflame, and for a split second, it all seemed to freeze like a snapshot.

He was sailing through the air, heading for the water again, fighting for breath as if he’d run a thousand laps. Some small part of his mind urged him to move – flail, brace, anything. Another part, even smaller and twice as quiet, whispered that he was going to drown. Something pealed out around them, low and snarled and  _ loud, _ and for a fleeting moment Sasuke thought it sounded like his name.

_ I’m sorry. _

Limp as a corpse, Sasuke hit the water and sank into darkness.

* * *

Sakura heard the shouting first. It was still distant, barely pricking against the chakra woven into her ears as she ran, each footstep a death knell thudding beneath her ribs. Less distant was the swell of thick fog that hung over her destination like a shroud, the surest sign that Zabuza was in the midst of attacking. Each breath was like claws tearing from her throat, but Sakura ducked her head and pushed harder.

In the scant minutes it took for her to cross the town, the cloud weakened and dissolved; perhaps if she’d been her native self, that would have reassured her. Instead, as it faded into the night, Sakura saw her vision blur with fear, a frantic heartbeat crashing in her ears and engulfing all other sound save for the shattering gasps of her own lungs.

Her hands were numb by the time she reached Tsunami’s house, leaping onto the roof with a chakra-assisted jump and scrambling over to the other side.

_ “Sasuke!!” _

The voice overrode everything else and Sakura stumbled. Barely caught herself, stabbing the end of her sword into the slats, both hands occupied.  _ Kakashi-sensei. _ He shouldn’t be up yet, let alone exerting himself, and least of all getting into a fight. Then it registered  _ what _ he’d shouted, and she lifted her head to search the battlefield, blinking through stinging liquid. Was it tears or sweat? She wasn’t sure – it didn’t matter.

Hinata was a sorry pile on the ground, half twisted around herself and watching the scene unfold with a painful squint, her hair an inky puddle around her shoulders where it had come loose. Across from her stood Zabuza, his left arm at his side with the telltale wet noodling of a successful Jūken strike, face turned towards the house. Sasuke was nowhere in sight.

Even as she watched, Kakashi shot out into view with a kunai in hand; it only took the smallest glimpse for Sakura to realise he must have just awoken, dragged back to consciousness by the sounds of combat outside. His hair was an unruly mess, sticking out in a silver halo, and he was wearing neither shoes nor flak jacket, his kunai holster and hitai-ite both missing; presumably still laid neatly at the foot of Kakashi’s futon where Sakura had put them. His gloves remained, reaching up to his elbows with their protective plates, but the bandage wrap hiding his slashed Anbu tattoo was exposed.

As Sakura drew breath for a shout of her own, the two elites below met. Zabuza caught Kakashi’s attack with his one good hand, letting the kunai punch through his palm and emerge from the back. Internally the clinical part of Sakura flinched, able to imagine all too easily the bones crunching from the impact. That hand flexed and then curled around Kakashi’s, and even wounded that badly Sakura knew that Zabuza’s trapping grip was not a trifling thing.

_ “STOP!!!” _

Silence flooded the wake of Sakura’s cry, and she felt the weight of three pairs of eyes turn towards her simultaneously. Only now, with a moment to catch her screaming thoughts, did Sakura realise the picture she must paint: her body streaked in blood and her hair matted with it, an unfamiliar sword in one hand and a  _ severed head _ in her other, absent her Konoha hitai-ite.

The ice that slid gently down her spine had nothing to do with winter.

Doing her best to ignore it, Sakura dropped from the roof with a light touch of chakra to steady her landing, and then ran to Kakashi’s side. Zabuza must have recognised the face that she carried, because he let out a low snarl and squeezed Kakashi’s hand harder before releasing, yanking his hand back and ripping out the kunai.

Kakashi and Hinata were deadly silent, but Zabuza held his hand up to his chest to slow the bleeding and grumbled. Too low to catch the words, but Sakura recognised the gleaming threat in his eyes.

With the panic bubbling underneath like fuel, loathing suddenly boiled up in Sakura’s chest, and she bared her teeth in a snarl of her own, shoving Gatō’s head into Zabuza’s sternum with all the mundane strength she could muster. He didn’t stumble, but he let out a soft sound and gripped the hair. “Your benefactor is dead,” Sakura hissed at him, “so you have no reason to hunt us. You won’t get paid for it.” Her own voice tasted like the bitterest of teas. Violence welled in Zabuza’s expression as he carelessly tossed the head aside, and Sakura whipped her blade up to his groin, the edge only a few centimetres away from cutting into his femoral artery. “Go plunder his offices if you want money.” As much of the ice under her skin went into her voice as she could cram in, and with a twist of chakra she opened the mental seal on her killing intent.

Behind her, Hinata let out a soft sound of distress, half-delirious, and what was visible of Kakashi’s face paled. Not fear, not of her, but the same aloof voice in the back of her head took note of it anyway, that she’d let enough of it show to alarm him.

Zabuza met her gaze, weighing her up, and then let out an annoyed snort – the bandages concealing the lower half of his face twitched with a resentful grin. A moment later he stepped back from them, his stance relaxing, and let out a humourless laugh. “I’ll give you this, Copy-nin,” he rumbled, turning to walk towards the water. “These genin of yours have balls of steel.” Paused just a moment at the edge, tossed a glance back over his shoulder. “They shoulda been born in Kiri.”

He dove into the water – Sakura couldn’t fathom why, nor did she care – and a sideways glance as she screwed the lid back on her killing aura revealed that Kakashi’s face was murderously dark.

As much as it stung, the idea that she might no longer embody Konoha’s ideals, it had to wait. “Where’s Sasuke?” she asked, turning the sword point-down and stabbing it into the dirt. She couldn’t see him, but she knew he had to be hurt.

There was no reply forthcoming; instead, Kakashi took a running start into the water after Zabuza.

Gaping after him –  _ He wants to fight Zabuza?? Now??  _ – it took Sakura a few moments to think to go after him. It couldn’t be that he was chasing an underwater battle, not as harrowingly low on chakra as she knew he was, not against such a powerful  _ Kiri _ shinobi, so if she held that Kakashi’s mind was still in working order then it had to be—

Zabuza’s sword came up first, leaping out of the water in a glittering arc of reflected moonlight, and landing barely a metre to Sakura’s left, sticking bladefirst in the earth. A moment later came its swordsman, using his good arm (for a given value of ‘good’) to haul himself out of the water. He flashed Sakura a grin that read easily through the makeshift mask, and yanked the sword from the dirt on his way past. Hands clenching as she controlled the impulse to punch him straight into the next war, Sakura watched him go, tracking him until he was out of sight. Even when the sound of Kakashi breaching the surface splashed out behind her, she kept eyes on Zabuza rounding the corner of Tsunami’s house.

It felt too easy, that he was suddenly not a threat. He’d almost seemed… amicable, as much as he ever got, and with her body still pounding with adrenaline and fear and anger, it didn’t seem  _ possible _ that the danger had been resolved. Not this quickly, not without some kicker at the end. How hard had they needed to fight to survive the first time, how long had it taken Naruto and his silver tongue to sway Zabuza to their side? It hadn’t even been a sure thing after Kakashi had killed Haku, with their body lying crumpled on the ground, a thick puddle of their own blood seeping out underneath them.

She’d only dared to hope they might survive, that first time, when Gatō had shown up and given Zabuza the final push in their stead. It had taken years for Kakashi’s words to stop echoing through her dreams – that Naruto and Sasuke were surely dead.

So where did she get off ending it so easily this time around? How was it possible that the fight was just simply  _ over, _ that presenting Gatō’s head was really all it took? It wasn't so unbelievable, if she was objective about it – Zabuza was only taking mercenary work for the money, after all. It took deep pockets to rebuild a hidden village ravaged by its own bloodthirsty practices. But even so, the end of their quarrel felt suspiciously quick.

With her first slow breath since her clone had popped, Sakura shoved down the instinctive incredulity and tried to order her thoughts. Just because it was over suddenly didn’t mean it was over  _ easily. _ Zabuza had no personal interest in them; they were in the way of his contract, and now his contract was void. There was no point in continuing to fight when the risk to his person was so high. Better, easier, and arguably more bountiful to do as Sakura had suggested, and ransack whatever his late employer had.

Worse off for the Land of Waves, in the short-term, but ultimately far more savoury than a slow economic death.

Kakashi was clambering out of the water himself, hair slicked down around his face and neck, visibly shivering. In one arm, limp and wet, Kakashi held Sasuke against his chest. Unconscious.  _ No. _ He’d been in the water.

Sakura met Kakashi as he crossed back onto land, all thoughts of Zabuza forgotten. Training kicked in, all at once, boxing her feelings away for later and splitting her mind into distinct and useful categories. Right now, she was a medic – so everything else was just a distraction.

Despite reaching for Sasuke, Kakashi didn’t give him to her, instead setting him down on his side and putting one hand to his back. For a single moment, his palm lit up with green chakra before the strain proved too much, and he slumped back and let it die.

_ Sensei… _ But she couldn’t say anything. It wasn’t exactly surprising that this Kakashi had at some point picked up the basics of medical ninjutsu; her Kakashi had done so too, when he’d been a teenager, but she doubted very much that this one had sought official training in any capacity when hers hadn’t either. At the very least, it explained the inexpert healing that had been applied to some of his scars and not the others.

All this, winding through the back of her mind as she settled on her knees by Sasuke and pressed a hand to his back, igniting a diagnostic jutsu that shone twice as stable as Kakashi’s attempt. It was no wonder – he was still exhausted, barely on the edge of safety. Letting him do anything was an exercise in risk. “It’s okay,” she rambled blithely, focused on the feedback from her jutsu and the sloshing sensation that betrayed the water in Sasuke’s lungs. “I’ve got him. He’ll be okay.”

Sakura didn’t even hear herself talking, a reflex of reassurance that she couldn’t spare the energy to avoid. She couldn’t drag the water out of Sasuke’s body with a suiton – it was infinitely unsafe even when she was at her best, to push her chakra so close to Sasuke’s own system in that manner, so close to his nexus, let alone how dangerous the manipulation of the water could be to his lungs if she was even a fraction careless. In the state she was in right now, sleep-deprived and running close to fatigue herself, with a twelve-year-old’s less than stellar chakra control, it would just be asking to shred Sasuke’s lungs from the inside out.

But they were in the field, and she didn’t have any of the medical equipment she’d kept on hand in storage scrolls by the end of her previous life.  _ Heart still beating. _ Slow and weak, but there. She let go the glow of chakra in her hands and touched his face for a moment, checking the dribble of water from his mouth; found it dissatisfactory. Tilting his head a little further, she waited for the dribble to all but cease – it took only a moment – and then rolled him onto his back.

She could feel all eyes on her, a prickling that crept under her skin and stayed there, and would linger for days. Sakura ignored it. There was nothing to be done, and she needed to act  _ fast _ before permanent harm came to her teammates. They were just kids.

They were kids, and she’d left them alone, and maybe it had been the right call because it had worked, in the end, but they were all so close to death and Sakura couldn’t tell if it was her fault anymore or not – and maybe it didn’t matter anymore, because she was here now, and hell would have to open its gates and release the reapers to personally claw their lives out of her grasp. Not as long as her heart still beat.

Tipping Sasuke’s head back, Sakura pinched shut his nose, used her other hand to open his mouth, and leaned down. There was a slight resistance as she breathed into him, the water that had blocked his trachea and filled his lungs. Pulled back and waited a few beats to draw in another breath of her own, and then pressed that into him too. Less resistance, this time, trying to gauge exactly how bad it was without jutsu and relying solely on long experience. Never before had Sakura wished drowning to be more common in Konoha than it was.

The resistance broke on the third breath, Sasuke’s chest lifting faintly as Sakura’s efforts found the pockets in his lungs that were gloriously free of water. She felt his exhale against her fingertips when she pulled back, but it was default muscle contraction and nothing more; he didn’t stir. A flutter of panic made itself known in Sakura’s gut, a hard node at her solar plexus that wouldn’t bow to the rigid mental conditioning. It was taking too long. He couldn’t have been in the water for longer than a minute or two, but it didn’t matter if he wouldn’t start breathing again on his own.

Sasuke’s heart had still been beating when Kakashi had dredged him up, but that mercy was a limited offer. The longer this went, the closer he got to dying. Her hands were shaking as she took a few deep breaths, trying to maintain as much oxygenation as she could, but she ignored Kakashi-sensei’s narrow, scrutinising stare and leaned down again.

Sasuke tasted like blood and salt.

Ignoring Kakashi turned out to be (yet another) mistake, as she paused between one inhalation and the next; soaking wet and ragged, the shivering unabated, he dragged himself out of his exhausted slouch and up onto one knee. Obvious in his gaze that he’d refocused on Hinata beyond them, intent on going to tend her now that Sasuke was in Sakura’s hands. The growl was out of her mouth before she could check it, the briefest glance away from her immediate patient to her sensei: “Absolutely fucking not.  _ Sit down.” _ Incredibly, Kakashi did. He was right to think Hinata needed attention, but he couldn’t afford to be the one to give it, not without making himself into another casualty. Everything was urgent right now, and Sakura had to prioritise exactly who she was helping in five second bursts. As stressful as it was, as much as it made her feel like every thought was a flash of hazy colour and indistinct intention, the frenzy was… comfortingly familiar. It had always been like this, days upon days, at the end.

These thoughts ran parallel to the continuous loop of action and observation, well-worn twin tracks. She needed to get to all of it, but since she could only do one thing at a time she’d just have to get it done and move on. Hinata needed attention, but she could wait until the next five seconds. Sasuke might not.

After she’d kissed a fifth breath into him, as Sakura watched the exhalation, Sasuke finally twitched. It was slight, initially, a little ripple of motion as he tried to breathe in on his own, and then it was explosive all at once, broken gasping and choking as water came up. Keeping her touch gentle – all his senses would be in overdrive as he became more lucid, and touch was always the first to turn painful – Sakura rolled Sasuke onto his side and let him cough, watching closely.

Once she saw his eyes flicker open for a second, she looked up to Kakashi instead. “Keep an eye on him.” And if there was part of her that was disturbed by the ease with which she was giving her sensei orders, then it would just have to wait its turn. “You know what to watch for.” Even almost seven years behind her former Kakashi, she had absolutely no doubt that he’d seen and monitored drownings before.

Getting to her feet was harder than she’d expected it to be, the unsteadiness of chakra fatigue finally catching up with her. Heaviness sank into every limb, and she allowed herself the time to take a slow breath, as deep as she could, and held her own lungs at capacity for a few moments, eyes closed into the sensation. When she let it out, she opened her eyes and made her way to Hinata’s side.

This body wasn’t accustomed to it yet, but Sakura had the mental fortitude of years of double and triple shifts at Konoha General. Mere exhaustion wouldn’t stand in her way.

Hinata watched her approach and crouch down, eyes narrow with pain and crying silently. The streaks down her cheeks shone in the rising moonlight. A cursory glance told Sakura a number of things all at once – terrifying things – and she swallowed down the urge to swear. “Hey, Hinata.” As soft as she could. “I’m going to roll you onto your other side, okay?” Without any proper examination Sakura couldn’t be sure exactly  _ what _ was wrong with Hinata’s leg, but there was something definitely wrong.  _ Please don’t be the hip, please don’t—  _ The prayers amounted to nothing as Sakura helped Hinata onto her good side, as gently as was physically possible, and tried to ignore the whimpers that broke over the sound of Sasuke coughing behind her. Blood stained her hands wherever she touched Hinata, the bandages on her arm half-shredded open, new wounds clamouring for recognition.

The gurgled noise of Sasuke throwing up made her stomach clench, but it soothed something in her mind. She could hear Kakashi’s voice offering a low reassurance. Unpleasant all around, and Sasuke was by no means out of danger, but the more salt water his body purged, the better.

Heart sinking, Sakura ignited the green chakra around her palm again and ran it over Hinata’s hip, hovering just shy of contact.  _ “Shit.” _ It slipped out regardless, a frenetic little hiss. Hinata must have landed on it at some point, or more likely landed on her knee and transferred the force all the way up her femur, the femoral head slipping from its socket into a posterior dislocation. Even if it registered under her jutsu as partial, rather than the femoral head being fully dislocated behind the pelvis, it had to be agony. “Fuck— I’m sorry, Hinata.” What should she do? If it had been a war injury, and barring surrounding fractures, Sakura would have just popped the joint back into place without a second thought and dealt with the rest of the situation, but this wasn’t a war and Hinata wasn’t a weathered chūnin or a veteran jōnin who had knowingly stepped into the battle; she was a twelve-year-old genin who wasn’t ready for this level of combat. She was a  _ child _ who – quite aside from the absence of anaesthesia – could suffer significant lingering damage if Sakura did this wrong.

At the least, a mercy that Sakura would have gladly given her fingernails to ensure, there were no breaks she could detect in Hinata’s pelvis or femur.

Putting that dilemma aside for the moment – though she couldn’t leave it for long, hip dislocations couldn’t simply be left to their own devices – she turned green eyes to the blood on Hinata’s lips and frowned. “How much blood have you spit up?” Asked in a low voice, but even Sakura could hear the weariness in it. Sometimes she had to give up being reassuring to get the job done, and Hinata deserved better but it was all she could do to keep the diagnostic jutsu from flickering in her hand.

Hinata’s voice was strained and breathless, but she managed shallow gasps between words and gave a response. “Not… a lot. A few… mouthfuls. Maybe.” Giving a hum in acknowledgement, Sakura lightly curled her fingers around the wrist of Hinata’s good arm and lifted it away from her torso. Running her glowing hand up Hinata’s body, it didn’t take long to find the culprit. Sakura bit her lip. There was a sense of resignation in Hinata’s voice as she forced out a question: “How bad…?”

There was no point in lying about it. “You’ve got a broken rib. Well, a few, but one of them broke badly and pierced your lung.” She didn’t elaborate on it, but understanding filtered through Hinata’s face all the same. “... I can do something about it, Hinata, but… it won’t be pleasant. And I…”  _ Say it. _ She owed her team honesty, as much as she could, for all the lies she couldn’t help. “I don’t think I have the chakra to fix both that and your hip. I can put it back in place but… but I might do it wrong, and then you’d need healing for the surrounding soft tissues, and I… I can’t…”

It was going to suck anyway, and even if Sakura worked perfectly Hinata was going to be as sore as a trampled deer for a while, but some of the additional injuries Sakura could inflict would need attention as fast as possible.

And… “And it’s going to hurt. I can’t knock you out.” She just didn’t have the chemicals on hand to do it, and even if she did it was an enormous folly to administer them in the field without any proper way to monitor the effects and ensure Hinata’s recovery. She was just one medic, and she didn’t have enough left to do everything.

There was a faint downturn to Hinata’s eyebrows as she considered that, a faint gleam that made Sakura wonder if she was trying to decide on a course of action. It did rather sound like Sakura was asking permission, on reflection. Her mistake (again, again).

Shifting her position, Sakura put her hands together, pulled the sheath of chakra over them both, and then pressed them gently against Hinata’s ribcage. It was awkward positioning, her hands held in a loose V shape; Hinata turned crimson at the touch, but Sakura pretended not to notice. It was hardly the first time she’d had to maneuver around a patient’s breasts – even as barely-there as they were at Hinata’s young age – and it wouldn’t be the last. There wasn’t much of the human body that Sakura hadn’t seen and handled many times over.

A minute passed in wordlessness. Silence was too generous a term for it, the faint whimpers Hinata gave while Sakura worked, the painful coughing behind them that quieted the persistent fear Sasuke might still die. The acute, terrifying nothing as Kakashi watched. Hinata gave a little cough as Sakura’s chakra dipped towards the threshold of risk, and her face immediately contorted around a pained moan, the movement jolsting her injuries.

Slowly, stimulated by Sakura’s meddling, the puncture in Hinata’s lung – miraculously small – sealed over and stopped bleeding into her airways. Sakura didn’t dare do anything with the ribs themselves; Hinata was going to need more attention when they made it back to Konoha, and if Sakura set any of the fractures, even the hairline ones, it would just mean more trauma when they got there. The lung was going to need more healing anyway, but right now Sakura just wanted to make sure she didn’t drown in her own blood.

Sitting back, pushing away the shadows creeping in at the edges of her vision, Sakura turned her gaze onto Hinata’s hip again. Bit her lip. Leaving it was a risk she couldn’t abide, but resetting it was a risk too.

“Just… do it.” Sakura met a resolute white gaze, and offered a tiny nod in reply.  _ Okay. _ She should go through it first, make sure that Hinata fully understood the risks involved, but… but she just couldn’t find the energy to do so. It had been too long since she’d slept, too much chakra spent on too many jutsu that she had no business knowing.

There was going to be hell to pay after this, when they were safe, when Kakashi-sensei got the chance to interrogate her again. Even the thought of it was like cotton wool in her skull, a fuzzy asthenia furling out into every part of her.

Her chakra felt so sluggish as to be almost stagnant as she moved around Hinata to a better position. There was nothing to be done for it – as thinly and carefully as she’d tried to shear off each new aliquot of chakra as she’d used it, her reserves were finite and finally failing. “Sorry,” blurted as she put her hands in place and Hinata flinched at the contact. “I’m gonna count to three, alright?” Now came the mean bit.  _ I’m sorry. _ But she had to concentrate, had to put as much energy as possible into getting this right, because getting it wrong  _ was not an option. _ “One, two,” and it was such a common deception that maybe Hinata expected it, the echo of tension in her face, but Sakura tightened her grip under Hinata’s knee, the rest of her arm holding her calf to Sakura’s side, pressed down with her other hand against Hinata’s pelvis to prevent her from bucking, and pulled.

The sound Hinata let out as the joint  _ clunked _ back into place was muffled by the blood in her throat and came out scratchy, but it was still a shriek. Not letting go, Sakura held light tension in Hinata’s leg and with the hand she’d had at her hip summoned up a diagnostic jutsu to run over it again. Panting roughly, eyes closed, Hinata shuddered and didn’t resist.

His coughing slowing down, Sasuke forced out the syllables of Hinata’s name through a raw voice. She let out a slightly louder whimper in response, but otherwise remained as she was. Without looking around, Sakura picked up the line for her; “She’ll… be okay. Dislocated her hip.”

It was almost tangible, the dread in the air between them. Before she was done checking her handiwork, Sakura’s jutsu guttered out. For a moment all she could do was lift her palm and stare at it, as if it would reignite if only she was stern enough.

When it didn’t, she sighed and tipped her head back, and then carefully set Hinata’s leg back down. The motion elicited a weak moan.

“Tsunami?” Sakura called, looking back towards the house. “Are you there?” Of course she would be; Sakura couldn’t imagine that they’d done anything other than hide when Zabuza had shown up, and quite probably listened in terror as the fight had broken out. “It’s okay. He’s gone now.”

The first head to pop out of their back door was Inari’s. He looked out across them, dark eyes unreadable as he took in the sorry state of them all. Sasuke’s coughing had quieted down to intermittent gagging, and Hinata looked barely moments away from passing out. Blood and water soaked the ground. As soon as Tsunami followed her son in checking them over, she put her hands on Inari’s shoulders and turned him back inside; whispered something in his ear that Sakura didn’t hear.

Her hands clenched at her sides, and the faint ache of grinding her teeth grew in her jaw as she did it harder. She couldn’t afford to drop right now, no matter how tired she was, no matter how low her chakra reserves were running. She had to stay up, because someone had to watch their injuries, had to be on standby if Sasuke or Hinata went downhill after everything done to them; the next forty eight hours were crucial and terrifyingly dangerous.

They needed to get inside, so they could get cleaned up. So Sakura could figure out a way to get word to Konoha to come and bring them home.

Her breath froze in her chest, immediately chased by a searing ache in her throat and the sting of heat in her eyes.  _ Stupid, stupid. _ Even if they were under threat here—  _ especially because _ they were under threat here, she should have sent a messenger bird to Konoha the moment they’d arrived. Surely there was at least one rookery in this godforsaken place. Too busy lashing herself for her earlier mistakes, too distracted by monitoring Kakashi, still so maladjusted to this timeline that she’d forgotten they had Konoha at their back. The whole world wasn’t a battlefield, they weren’t relying on themselves and praying that the isolated groups on every side were doing better than they were.

She could have called for Konoha. She could have done it at  _ any _ point – not just when they’d finally dragged themselves into the Land of Waves proper, not just by buying a messenger bird, but even earlier. After they’d driven Zabuza off the first time, when Sakura still had enough chakra left for clones. She could have sent herself back to Konoha, to Tsunade-sama.

Frustrated, exhausted tears made it hard to see, and harder to speak, but Sakura forced herself to her feet and turned back to Tsunami, now creeping out to them with Tazuna on her heels. Resolutely trying to pretend she  _ wasn’t _ crying miserably – and mentally cursing her native self – Sakura swallowed hard and made her voice heard regardless. “C-can you carry them inside? Be careful— Try not to… to jostle Hinata’s leg.”

The least convincing orders she’d ever given, but Tsunami spared her a wretched glance while Tazuna nodded and went to Hinata’s side; Sakura ignored it. If she acknowledged it, she’d only be even harder pressed to maintain some kind of control. Her chest felt hollow.

“Also, I need to know wh—” and she broke off, a thrill of fearful anger tearing through her like ghostly claws against her bones, eyes going wide as Kakashi’s chakra flared up for just a moment. Sakura whipped around, feeling herself sway as the motion sent a surge of dizziness around her skull, and felt her heart stutter, like someone had punched through her ribcage and squeezed.

Taking in the situation, the Konoha hitai-ite around her neck glinting, Ūhei swept eyes across them and picked up one forepaw uncertainly, turning to gently nose Kakashi’s hair. There was a twitch of his mask as he murmured something softly in her ear, before he crumpled to the ground and his eyes – only half-visible through the messy curtain of his hair – rolled shut.

Panic made itself known in Sakura’s sternum, a hard little node like being stabbed. The greyhound’s gaze went to her as she rushed over, stumbling to her knees at Kakashi-sensei’s side. “Fuck— Damn it, Sensei—” He  _ had _ to go and burn even more chakra when he’d only just woken up, when he’d thrown himself straight into a fight he absolutely couldn’t afford, he just  **had** to play the self-sacrificing idiot and even if Sakura understood why, even if he was  _ right— _ “Don’t you dare die here, Sensei.” Hissed through her teeth, the burning tears spilling down her cheeks in frustration. Unfair of her, perhaps, to be angry with him, but they were all running on empty now. Sakura wasn’t sure any of them were  _ capable _ of providing a successful chakra transfusion anymore.

Her hands over Kakashi’s chakra nexus, Sakura dug into her dwindling energy, fully aware of the hypocrisy of it. Green sparks came to life under her palms and between her fingers, a twinkling constellation instead of a steady sheet. As twisty and unreliable as the half-jutsu was, Sakura focused on it and looked just for Kakashi’s chakra flow, ignoring everything else; the rest of it she could check manually, but she was no Hyuuga and Hinata was delirious as Tazuna carried her inside – if his chakra flow had stopped, even though she wasn’t sure she and Sasuke could manage a transfusion, they’d have to try.

“Where are we?” came Ūhei’s soft voice, standing taller than Sakura’s crown where she knelt in the mud. A sense of urgency infused the ninken’s question, dragging Sakura’s gaze from Kakashi to his summons despite the frantic fluttering of her heart. “Sakura, where in the city are we?”

Practical as ever, straight to the point. It wasn’t even a surprise that she knew Sakura’s name; there was no doubt that Kakashi had gossipped endlessly to his pack about his students. Ūhei put a paw on Sakura’s knee, applying no pressure but pushing for an answer.

Sakura’s shoulders slumped, the chakra sparks in her hands died, and she tried not to feel the swell of new tears as something like relief washed over her. “Northeast Waves. Client’s house. The inlet turns to a river through the town.” Not a city, but Ūhei had no basis to assume otherwise. Removing her paw, Ūhei gave Sakura’s cheek a swift lick, reassuring, ears flicking where they poked through her combat wraps. Memory shattered, the last time she’d seen Ūhei alive, one eye slashed out and her tail a bloody stump, chakra leaking from her paws and a hastily scrawled note between her teeth – in case she was incapable of speaking by the time she reached her destination.

Echoes that stole into an exhale, reaching for the remembered sensation of blood-stained fur under her fingertips. “Run fast, Ūhei.”

In a puff of chakra and mist, Ūhei unsummoned herself.

* * *

As rare as it was to have days off – even after Tsunade-sama dismantled Anbu and rebuilt it from scratch – two in a row meant that, despite himself, Tenzō was starting to get bored. It wasn’t that he had  _ no _ hobbies, exactly, but a childhood spent in Root followed by an adulthood in Anbu left peculiar marks on one’s personality.

After too many hours spent kicking his heels, the lack of immediate purpose was starting to grate on him. Walking through Konoha following whatever whim last took him was aimless, but it was outside and moving, and without an active mission it would just have to do. As close as he generally was with his Anbu squadmates, his shadows had lives of their own to attend – and his co-Captain was an unmatched master of idling.

So, in spite of the dread chill that went through him at the sight, Tenzō was quick to react to the green sparks that shot into the sky over the Hokage Tower, shimmering into the shape of a lotus before fading entirely. He was on the rooftops before it was gone, sprinting across with shallow bursts of chakra to clear the gaps between buildings that were just a little too far to jump manually.

By the time Tenzō closed in on the Hokage Tower, four other shapes were coming in from all directions; three like him, skipping along the top of Konoha, and the last a serene motionlessness as he floated through the sky in a giant bubble. It had been long enough in their company by now that, as Tenzō slipped through the Hokage’s open windows with his shadows on his heels, they didn’t bother to wait on their second Captain; he was infuriatingly tranquil, and they would only waste time by accommodating it.

Naturally, Tenzō took point in their loose formation, gathered in front of the Hokage’s desk; Amaya and Yūgao stood at his flanks, while Iroha stood further afield, holding position to be on their other Captain’s outer flank. Unusually close to Tsunade-sama, back arched while she conversed with a fawn-coloured dog, Shizune’s expression dripped with anxiety. Like being stabbed, Tenzō recognised the ninken.

If the Konoha hitai-ite around her neck wasn’t enough of a clue, the vest across her back – secured around her forelegs – was so iconic that Tenzō was unlikely to ever forget it. One of Kakashi’s dogs.

The sense of relief he’d felt at the call to action withered into ash, and Tenzō tried not to taste it on his tongue. Tsunade-sama’s eyes were harsh and worried as she looked up at them, her hands laced together before her face. Fear – not for himself, but for Kakashi and his genin – crept under Tenzō’s skin like many-legged insects. Hadn’t they been sent on an out-of-village mission recently? It wasn’t something that should have posed any problems to the jōnin, at the very least.

Tenzō met the Hokage’s gaze, and inwardly cursed his co-Captain for always being slower.  _ Okay, ‘always’ is a little harsh. _ But enough so that waiting even the extra seconds it would take for him to arrive made Tenzō’s teeth itch, watching the storm in Tsunade-sama’s expression. Rarely did she ever wait until this team was fully assembled.

Amber eyes broke from the team to follow their last member as he slipped through the window, bubble popping soundlessly as he alighted and then took his position with a placid, graceful stride. Tsunade-sama spared just a moment to glare at him, and then glanced at the greyhound and lowered her hands.

“The information we have is limited, at best, but Kakashi’s team encountered… something. They need extraction as soon as possible; Ūhei will guide you once you get there. You’ve got five minutes to get your gear together and go.” Voice clipped, Tsunade-sama issued her orders rapidfire, looking between them. At the momentary pause that Tenzō’s team collectively had, she scowled at them. “You’re going as a rescue squad, not Anbu. Don’t go in uniform. Now get moving.”

Clearly dismissed, they shot out the various open windows and gathered on the roof; in Tenzō’s head, their five minutes were already ticking. Climbing up after them, Ūhei nosed her way into their huddle. “How many of you need to pick up weapons?” she asked, glancing between them. Tenzō echoed her gaze. Even in the middle of the night, he had an ample supply of basic weapons on him, and he rather expected that Amaya would too, regardless of if she’d been wandering as he had or if she’d been called from home.

The others, though… well. Even with almost five years’ experience in Tsunade-sama’s rehabilitated Anbu, they just didn’t carry the same paranoia that Root training imparted. With the time crunch they’d just been given, it was in their favour that Tenzō and Amaya were likely armed well enough for most of them, on a rescue mission.

Unease bubbled quietly in Tenzō’s belly. What had gone so wrong that Kakashi-senpai not only couldn’t handle it, but needed a full Anbu squad as rescue?

“I need my sword,” Yūgao intoned immediately, receiving a nod from her other Captain. Tenzō hesitated for a moment, contemplating it, before he gave a swift nod as well.

Straightening up, Tenzō directed their shadows to split into two parties with his hands. “Iroha, you come with me and Yūgao. We’ll drop you at the Hyuuga compound on our way past and pick you up on our way back. Get into something more suited to combat.” Silently, Iroha nodded; the flowing white robes that Tenzō was starting to suspect were mandatory amongst the Hyuuga clan might be comfortable to sleep in, but he absolutely couldn’t wear them out into the field. “Amaya,” as the woman opened her mouth to speak, “you’re going to leave your daughter a note?”

Expression unreadable, a hard glint in her now-yellow eyes, Amaya nodded. “She’ll worry if I don’t.”

Tenzō gave a short hum, gaze flashing over to his co-Captain. “Alright. Utakata, go with her.”

…

They met at the southern Konoha gate barely eight minutes later, and they didn’t wait; if they were fast enough, the extra delay wouldn’t amount to much. Ūhei had broken from the group as they’d split up, but she was already waiting for them with Pakkun riding on her shoulders. Outside of uniform, Utakata was the only one not wearing standard jōnin kit – the dark blue kimono wasn’t as egregious as his typical civilian-wear, a little shorter and a little tighter where it hung from his narrow frame, and tied around his waist with a soft yellow-gold ribbon that washed out to a shimmery grey in the faint moonlight.

At least it didn’t hang so far off his shoulders that he seemed under constant threat of indecency. His pipe was nowhere in sight, and the cylinder that held his chakra-infused soap solution was sealed firmly, tucked into a specially-made pouch attached to the ribbon at his back, out of the way.

By the time any of them spoke, they’d already struck out in familiar formation; Tenzō and Utakata on twin points, with Yūgao and Iroha on their flanks and Amaya between them, all just one step behind. Less familiar, streaking along beside them as they wove through the forest surrounding Konoha, Ūhei kept pace in silence, Pakkun glued to her back. Her tail hung low, ears flat against her head, jaws almost fully closed. Barely a hint of fang showed in her muzzle, eyes focused on her path.

But, after ten minutes of relentless pace, somebody had to ask.

It was Yūgao, with about as much social grace as she ever managed; even at breakneck speed, her voice was low and even. “Ūhei, what the fuck happened?” Nobody took their eyes off where they were going, but Tenzō felt the focus of the group constrict around their canine escort.

Ūhei stayed silent for a few moments, resolutely staring ahead, before she finally responded. “I don’t know.” The knot of anxiety in Tenzō’s chest slipped loose into fear, spilling out through the gaps in his ribs like a water balloon bursting. Perhaps it should have been obvious already, by how brusque Tsunade-sama had been and how narrow their time limit to leave was – but it still felt like being punched in the face, Ūhei’s admission of ignorance.

Whatever was so wrong that Kakashi had sent for immediate backup, it was terrible enough that Ūhei hadn’t even asked after the details. No wonder Tsunade had sent not just an Anbu team, but  _ this _ Anbu team. They were going in blind.

As one, they ran faster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stuff and Things and Not-Stuff Haha Gotcha:  
> || It’s come to my attention that actually, I am an idiot and the ability to sense chakra presences isn’t actually supposed to be a universal skill.  
> || One the other hand, I’m also a stubborn motherfucker, so for the purposes of my own canon, it is now a universal skill. XD Everyone who’s chakra trained is capable of it, though the range and accuracy of that skill does vary greatly between shinobi.  
> || Also I did consider, with significant detail and input from Haethel, whether Gai and Lee would be capable of it given their rocky relationship with their own chakra coils, but ultimately since they both have enough control of their chakra to chakra-walk and Gai can actively use a summons, they’re both able to pulse out chakra to hunt for nearby signatures. Granted that Lee is hilariously bad at it.  
> || Because ‘killing intent’ is always a bit of a weird one to me, for my own purposes I consider it a somewhat advanced form of the above ability to detect and identify chakra signatures. It doesn’t require any training on the part of the recipient, because it’s a highly specialised form of the pulses shinobi use for detection – but instead of pulsing out and bouncing off foreign signatures (it’s basically chakra echolocation LMAO) it emits a low-level aura that carries sheer violence. So basically, it’s bullshit but I’m still going to use it because _murder bubble._  
>  || Yeah, I know that it’s technically ANBU and not Anbu but I loathe writing the full capslock every time it comes up, so I’m sticking to Anbu screw acronym rules. Ditto for Root, for obvious reasons.  
> || Remember I named the non-Captain members of Anbu squads shadows? Yeah. I regret absolutely nothing.
> 
> Once again, many dear thanks to my wonderful betas, and [HERE](https://silverstarlightwrites.tumblr.com) is my Authory sideblog, which is where all fic updates, headcanons, random thoughts, and miscellaneous go. Also where I'll get prompts.  
> For. For things.
> 
> Next Chapter Due: **1st December 2020**


	12. Everything That We'd Die For

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Recovery is a long and dangerous road.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very minor trigger warning for lightly referenced self-harm and an even lighter reference to attempted suicide, near the end of the chapter.

The rest of the night was a nauseating blur.

It passed in fragments, the vibration of her own voice humming in her chest when she was spoken to, never remembering anything she said in response. Her hands worked on muscle memory, numbly following Tsunami and Tazuna back inside, watching blankly as they carried Kakashi-sensei between them and set him down next to Hinata on the living room floor. She barely noticed the way Sasuke kept his distance.

She’d asked Tsunami if they had a first aid kit, she was pretty sure. Must have, in fact, because she remembered silently stitching the reopened wounds on Hinata’s arm and the new one on her shoulder, and they’d gone through Kakashi’s supplies already.

Sasuke had flinched when she’d turned to him. It was only fair a reaction; she should have told them she was going. She should have— So many things, so easily done differently, but it was too late now. All she had left was to patch them up, and do better next time. “Please,” she thought she heard herself say, and maybe her voice sounded as tired and miserable as she felt, because Sasuke turned his head away and let her at the wound on his back. It was ugly, and it was bleeding, but it wasn’t deep.

Not that  _ deep _ meant an awful lot when it cut across his spine, when his ribcage was so very close to the surface. Zabuza’s sword must have only just caught, tearing open the skin and muscle, but beneath them his bones had held. Sasuke hissed when she started treating it – that stood out clearly, for some reason, the way he’d tensed under her hands and flinched away, the feeling of letting words she couldn’t even hear tumble out of her mouth in response.

The look that had been in his eyes, suspicious and angry, as he watched her work. Even soaking wet and starting to shiver, even hurt and exhausted, he’d communicated such… such…

_ Ugh. _ It was all too hazy.

There was more, no doubt, that she should have noticed while she worked, doing all she could even as her hands shook relentlessly, even as everything seemed to be a blur beyond her narrow focus. Hinata whined and grabbed at Sakura’s shirt when she moved away, too out of it to be ashamed of the desire for company. Understandable –  _ normal _ – but Sakura carefully pried off Hinata’s fingers and set her hand back down.

She might have asked Tsunami to sit with Hinata instead.  _ No, _ she was  _ sure _ that she had, because there had been wide blue eyes that listened to Sakura’s mumbled instructions. Watch; Hinata needed to be watched. Not unconscious yet, not fully, but Sakura needed to know the moment Hinata began to cough up blood again, or if the freshly forming bruises around her neck swelled badly and obstructed her breathing, or if her leg started to cramp up.

Fragments, still, nonsensical little moments. Sasuke snarling when Tazuna tried to get him to drink some water. Had Sakura given him the same instructions she’d given Tsunami? A distant echo of awareness in the back of her mind hoped that she had. Sasuke was just as much at risk of his throat swelling wrong, or of the water still in his lungs drowning him again despite that he was on dry land. Kakashi had to be monitored, his breathing and pulse checked every few minutes, because Sakura couldn’t find the energy to check on his chakra flow despite the dire warning bells in her head that demanded it, and watching what she could through mundane means would just have to be good enough.

There was a faint impression of Inari, somewhere, solemn black eyes and a glass being held to her lips, forgetting how to resist when his squeaky voice ordered her to drink. The sheer panic of being called over by Tsunami, the scramble to Hinata’s side that left her body numb and her head spinning, the overwhelming relief of finding that Hinata was merely unconscious; still breathing, heart still beating.

A crushing ache in her chest, quiet nausea that matched the prickling weight behind her eyes. Sharper, throbbing pain in her temple and down one side of her face – thinking about it made an image of Tsunami’s living room flicker in her mind, skewed completely sideways, the sensation of the cool wooden floor pressing along her whole left side.

“No,” she’d said, she was pretty sure, when concerned voices had told her to rest. Gritty on her tongue, her voice like stagnant ash.  _ “No!” _ when they’d insisted. Her eyes had stung.

Sakura remembered the first ray of dawn, grey light seeping in through the windows, and the way she’d sagged underneath the weight of a blanket someone tucked around her shoulders. As confusing as the fractured memories were, it was only around here that Sakura began to wonder if she’d pushed so far as to cause hallucinations. There’d been… shouting, she thought. Distant and vague, but… something.

Barking.  _ Run fast, Ūhei. _ Had she? If she had, if they were lucky, then maybe Ūhei had reached the next unit over. Everybody needed backup, of course, but—

Then there’d been swearing, and too many voices. She’d tried to get up, she hoped, tried to face whatever new threat had arrived, tried to keep her people safe as long as she could— but there was movement on all sides like a flurry of fireworks, and she  _ knew _ that she’d hissed when she was touched, a ragged sound in the back of her throat that she could still feel.

Black eyes had swum into focus, a low voice that she— she knew? She  _ did _ know it… Where…?  _ “...in, can you hear me? Genin…” _ Fading in and out.

There were other voices too, overlapping, a dizzying cacophony that Sakura needed to decipher, she needed to  _ listen to _ because everyone else was down for the count and she had to… she had to try…

_ “Yūgao, do a perimeter sweep.” _

_ “... check their chakra flow…” _

_ “Get them up, we have to…” _

_ “...tive will be around in… …t week or so to follow…” _

Something soft and weightless caught in Sakura’s throat. She recognised that tone, even if the voice itself was foreign. Always something bureaucratic to be done, no matter how dire the war became, even if it had all been reduced from paperwork to mere words.

There were hands on her shoulders, too many hands as she was positioned like a marionette; she resisted, in vain, and found herself lying on her back. Her own weight was enough to keep her pinned there, even as the hands pulled away. Voices still, fuzzy and nonsensical.

The faintest noise, like a soft keen, almost indistinguishable under the voices, but she recognised it and she tried – she tried  _ so hard _ – to reach towards it.

_ "...t taking?" _

_ "... No." _

Something like cursing; for some reason, Sakura felt quite strongly that it was inappropriate. The thought shimmered like a translucent bubble, clearer than the haze around it, but ready to pop if she looked too closely. Another soft keen, almost a gasp, barely a voice. It made something wet escape down her temples.

_ "It's taking." _

_ “Okay.” _

_ "...kra nature does she ha…" _

_ "... Water." _ Sakura knew that voice, too. She needed to protect that voice.

Hands on her again, and she felt a wordless complaint on her own tongue, but it spiralled into the pulsating nothingness on all sides, and then there was a strange (and strangely familiar) crackle of— chakra? Something… She knew the sensation, it was right there at the edge of her mind, in the same echoey spaces that rational thought was slipping through. A crackle and a looming sense of dread, like she should know—

There was pain.

A noise clawed out of her, raking sharpness up the inside of her throat, taking hold of all her limbs with steel fangs. She felt  _ ablaze,  _ like there was acid in her veins. Darkness closed in thicker as she struggled to breathe – the voices came again, but she couldn't tell what they were saying, anymore.

For a while, there was nothing, until there wasn't.

Movement, then, sharp and rocking. Her head was cradled against something soft. Sakura wasn’t sure how long it took her, but eventually she managed to force her eyes open, just a sliver. Sunlight hit hard enough to elicit a pained gasp, and Sakura let them close again – but her brief glimpse was enough to get a vague idea of what was happening, even as blurry as it was.

She was being carried. And maybe…? Her team was too. The next unit over must have—

No… wait. She was too small for that. There wasn’t a rampage going on in the distance, she wasn’t at war. Confusion bubbled up, clashing memories; of course she wasn’t at war, it hadn’t happened yet – right?

_ Fuck. _

It took so much energy that Sakura was starting to wonder if she’d been put under a genjutsu somehow, but she got her eyes open again. White eyes flashed down to her face as she tried to move; familiar, in that Sakura saw the lack of pupils that could only be a Hyuuga, the common narrow features of the clan, but she couldn’t say which Hyuuga they might belong to.

Sakura’s eyes closed again, and there was a faint rumble in her ear; the vibration of the Hyuuga’s voice in their chest, which meant they must be speaking, but Sakura couldn’t pick out any words. It didn’t matter, though – a Hyuuga meant Konoha. Konoha meant safety.

It all swirled back into indecipherable sensation, and this time Sakura let it go.

* * *

The feeling was familiar, but it was still unwelcome. Heaviness came first, a bone-deep ache that dragged at every limb and made it hard to breathe. A vague prickling under his skin, covering his whole body like a phantom spiderweb, a sharpness in his left eye like the sting of tears… or blood.

Kakashi took his time getting his bearings, taking slow breaths until they came a little easier, twitching his fingers until they moved on command. Full sensation took longer to return, inputs that he couldn’t quite make sense of, but eventually he recognised the crisp fabric under his fingertips and let himself relax; no need for paranoid caution. He was in Konoha hospital.

He tried not to think about the fact he could identify the place by its  _ sheets. _

With a soft sigh, Kakashi started sorting through his thoughts – memory first, categorising and sorting whatever mission had gotten him here this time, so he could prepare for the reactions he was going to get. What had actually happened would change how Gai approached him, would change which lecture Kaida gave him. It would matter, later, just how much of this was Kakashi’s own—

He bolted upright, right eye opening and frantically scouring his surroundings. Dizziness and nausea struck immediately, and for a desperate second Kakashi tried to arrest them both. A bowl appeared in front of him, as if his reaction had been expected; it probably was, he mused in the back of his head, trying to focus on the thought over the painful convulsion of his stomach and the acid burn of bile. He’d been in this exact position enough times.

Probably why his mask was already around his neck. Reflexively, Kakashi turned his head away, but a glance sideways confirmed the dark hair and intense green. The colour was almost enough to make Kakashi’s stomach clench again. There was a hand firm at his back, taking more of his weight than he’d ever like to admit. The bowl left his (way too narrow) field of vision and he felt himself being eased back into lying down – despite how loudly experience told him that it was a bad idea, Kakashi found himself reaching out to grab the front of Gai’s jumpsuit. The attempt made everything spin, and the churning movement didn’t stop when he scrunched his eye shut again.

_ Fuck, fuck. _

Gai took his hands, like he always did, and gently pushed Kakashi back down onto his bed. He tried to resist, of course he did, but there was a static pain in his sternum, an unwelcome reminder of how much chakra he’d burned through trying to protect his genin, the lingering aftereffects of the punch of someone else’s chakra through his nexus.

_ My genin. _

Trying to find his voice was like trying to breathe honey, but Gai patted him on the shoulder, easily keeping him down, and hummed like he could read Kakashi’s mind. “Your kids are alright, Kakashi.” Voice low, a temporary absence of his usual… enthusiasm… as there always was, for the first couple of days. “They’re all here; you all made it.”

The words took a minute to percolate into meaning, but when they did Kakashi let out a harsh sigh.  _ Okay. _ It wasn’t easy, trying to take even breaths while he got a grip on the panic crackling under his skin like a crystalline veneer, every inhale unsteady and counted out in case it all shattered. His heart beat bitterly against his breastbone, a violent reminder of fear he couldn’t shake. He’d known that taking baby shinobi into the field was a bad idea, he’d  _ known, _ because fate was nothing if not a bloodthirsty bitch, and Kakashi was pretty fucking certain he was her favourite bootycall.

He’d been stupid to let himself care about these genin. People who got too close to him were easy prey for the reapers.

Softly, Gai’s voice broke through his thoughts. Not words, this time, but a steady hum of melody that – yet again – Kakashi didn’t recognise. Old frustration jumped in his gut, a friendly irritation; every single time, no matter how many times this happened, Gai always had a  _ new tune _ to hum until Kakashi calmed down. He was starting to suspect Gai was just making them up as he went along.

…

Who was he kidding, Gai was probably making up the melodies Kakashi thought he  _ did _ recognise too.

But it got easier, steadying his heartbeat, breathing smoother, until Kakashi had convinced himself that he didn’t need to jump up and rescue anyone. Or kill anyone. Funnily enough, either one usually involved the other. The mental quip was reflexive, almost hysterical, but Kakashi tucked that away as far back as it would go and focused on the present. The sound of Gai’s humming, the starched sheets now tangled loose around him, the sterile smell on all sides, the taste of bile. Slower breaths.

“You said they’re here?” First thing first, Kakashi needed an entire fucking report on his genin. Where they were  _ exactly _ – whether ‘here’ meant in Konoha, or in the hospital, or right here with him in the very same room. Zabuza had left, he was almost certain, but he didn’t remember anything after summoning Ūhei. Neither who Tsunade had sent, nor the trip back.

Gai hummed. “Indeed. Tsunade-sama insisted on Team Seven being kept together.” An edge of the familiar Gai in his voice, a barely controlled urge to wax poetic on just what he thought about such camaraderie. Kakashi was so grateful that he didn't, it almost moved him to tears.

A soft sigh, almost silent, and Kakashi swallowed the simmering panic. It wouldn’t help anyone if he lost control to it – dangerous, even, not just to himself but to his kids as well.

He chose not to think about the fact they’d become  _ his _ kids somewhere along the line.

“What happened?” Not exactly an eloquent question, but Gai had been here just as often as Kakashi had, and he knew what it meant. Another slow breath –  _ control _ – and Kakashi opened his eye to study Gai’s face, reaching up to finally tug his mask back over his own. His hands were trembling.

Gai sat back in his chair. “Tenzō and Utakata’s team went to retrieve you; it took them about a day to get you back here. That was three days ago.” Voice low, arms crossed while he watched Kakashi closely. Waiting for any sign Kakashi might be about to act, ready to hold him if need be. A familiar scrutiny, enough so that it barely even made him want to slip out from under it. _Tenzō._ Better not to think about that, yet. “Sasuke’s been awake for most of it. Hinata woke up briefly; she’s been sedated. Sakura is still unconscious.”

Quick, to the point. Gai knew what information Kakashi was after, like he always did. Another slow breath, deeper this time, holding it for a few moments to push through the searing sting the movement drew from his sternum, his chakra nexus protesting even gentle tension. It wasn’t a surprise in the slightest, that the rescue team had given him a chakra transfusion. He’d known it was inevitable when he’d summoned Ūhei – moulding the pitiful dregs of his chakra to perform the summons had been like peeling off his own skin.

But it had been worth it. Any risk was worth it to stave off the inevitable.

And it  _ was _ inevitable. Like it always was.

Glancing at the curtains drawn around his bed, Kakashi considered his immediate options. Leaving, no matter how tempting, was not one of them. Even if he had the energy to sneak out, wrangling both Gai and whatever hidden guards Tsunade had assigned him this time, setting that example to his genin this early would be reprehensible. Along the same logic came limitations for any activity that took him out of bed, especially given how the weakness of chakra exhaustion seeped into every muscle.

Unusual in their own right, that there were curtains at all. It had been quite some years since Kakashi was hospitalised without being tucked away in a private room. Something in that, something that Kakashi should be able to identify, a thread of logic that he knew he could tease out, if only the nascent throb of an oncoming migraine would quiet down.

Running one hand through his hair – testing, and it still trembled but there was at least a fluidity of movement to the action – Kakashi pushed away the weariness under his skin, the way any thought other than that of going back to sleep felt like a burden. “I need to see them.” Too raw and blatant a request, and he should know better, but Gai just offered a barely restrained smile and rose to his feet. Kakashi always loathed being wheeled about in a wheelchair even when he actually couldn’t walk on his own, but—

Gai swept the curtains open, a quick circuit around Kakashi’s bed before he sat back down, and the stray thread snapped into understanding. Team Seven had been kept together.  _ Stupid. _ Obvious, in hindsight, if he’d dedicated more than a single brain cell to it.

In the other three beds that made up the ward were Kakashi’s genin. Opposite him lay his kunoichi, tucked in neatly and disturbingly still. Both had IV lines that snaked beneath their blankets, presumably set into their cephalic veins, at the crook of their elbows. More comfortable than the cannula tagged to Kakashi’s foot, though he had no case to complain. Only patients who were considered flight risks got the needle in the foot.

To his right, Sasuke was lying against several pillows too many, reading a book with a dour expression. As Kakashi studied him –  _ Bruising on his neck, still bad, but fading to yellow at the edges. Breathing easily enough. No other obvious or dire injuries _ – Sasuke’s face twitched. A few more seconds’ observation were enough to tell Kakashi that he was scanning the same passage of the book repeatedly.

Damn. That probably meant he’d heard Kakashi wake up, and everything since.

Sitting watchfully in the middle of the room were Ūhei, Pakkun, Urushi, and Shiba. They’d all perked up as Gai had drawn the curtains, but they had yet to speak. Something liquid oozed outwards under Kakashi’s skin, knowing that even when he’d been down, the ninken had been there to guard his genin.

Pakkun lifted one paw, held it, and then put it back on the floor. Lay down again, his back tucked against Urushi’s stomach; Urushi stayed sprawled on the floor, a slow wag of their tail, before Shiba dipped her head to nose at Pakkun’s side, and he mumbled something so low Kakashi couldn’t hear it.

After a few moments, all four of the dogs watching Kakashi carefully, Shiba and Ūhei settled on the floor with their fellows. Quiet and vigilant, they sat guard and waited.

Normally, at least one of them (and it was always a toss-up as to whether it would be Pakkun or Urushi) would be on Kakashi’s bed with him, and there would be seven dogs left scattered around the room. Normally, they’d crowd him once he was awake, licking him and telling him off for whatever he’d done to land himself in hospital this time.

But normally, he was alone in the hospital room. Normally, he didn’t have three kids he’d dragged in with him.

Sasuke was still staring at his book; his eyes had stopped moving entirely. An utterly transparent attempt at pretending not to be listening, but Kakashi was grateful that he was making it. “Sasuke,” he called for his attention anyway. Sasuke picked his head up instantly, looking over and closing the book.

“Sensei.” Acknowledgement and relief in one – it must have been incredibly nerve-wracking for him, to be in a hospital room with his whole team and be the only one conscious. His voice was cracked, a mixture of being throttled and being drowned; scratchy, but surprisingly strong. “... How are you feeling?”

It took more effort than he’d care to admit, but Kakashi waved a hand to try and dissolve the anxiety in Sasuke’s voice. How shaken he must be, realising so quickly and so harshly that they were all so fragile, in the end. Anger bubbled quietly in Kakashi’s gut, a quiet rage that had nowhere to go. As easy as it would be to hate Zabuza for the violence they’d endured, it was – ultimately – Tazuna’s fault that such an inexperienced team had been put against such a perilous enemy.

Underneath the anger, pride swept out. Kakashi thought, for a moment, that he might choke on it.

“I’m fine, Sasuke.” Maybe it would be more convincing if Kakashi could sit up under his own power, but it would have to do. It wasn’t Sasuke’s job to worry about him. “Do you remember what happened?” And maybe it was partly selfish, asking for a report from the kid, but it mattered which parts stood out for him. It would be the things that he recalled with the most clarity that Kakashi would have to work on with him first.

For a moment, Sasuke glanced away. Something dark flickered across his face. “You mean after you passed out?”  _ Ouch. _ A fair question, but it did nothing to placate Kakashi’s moldering guilt; not that he deserved it to. Humming a soft confirmation, Kakashi tried to ignore that Pakkun had broken away from the pack, quietly padding over to climb up onto his bed. His focus needed to stay on Sasuke – but it helped, in spite of himself, when the ninken settled down at his side. “... Yeah, I remember.”

Ah.

Reaching down with one hand, seeking the familiar comfort of warm fur under his fingertips, Kakashi sighed softly. Was it too early to make Sasuke put together a verbal report of the shitshow he’d just been through? It had been days since their return, Gai had said, but it was easy to forget when Kakashi felt like he’d only just dragged Sasuke out of the water and watched Sakura revive him.

_ Mm. _ That would have to wait.

Given how badly the mission had gone, it was likely Sasuke had already had to give a report, as the only team member who’d been conscious. Guilt clawed back up the inside of Kakashi’s ribs, punching razor sharp holes between them. It almost felt like cruelty to ask him to do it again – but Kakashi had to know. He only remembered broken fragments after their first encounter with Zabuza, and the chain of events that had taken them from there to here in the hospital was too incomplete.

Sasuke was still watching him. “... Have you given a report about the mission, yet?” Kakashi met his gaze, and watched it flash ever so briefly towards Sakura and Hinata.

“Yeah.”

Kakashi sighed again and glanced towards Gai, silently questioning. Would he be in the wrong for asking? Ordering. In the field Sasuke had trusted him— but the middle of mortal combat was very different from trapped in quiet recovery with little else to think about, and Kakashi had done very little to endear himself to them. Had done so deliberately.

With an unsubtle smile that spoke of all the saccharine things Kakashi would have to hear about later, Gai nodded. Alright then. Shifting focus back to Sasuke, Kakashi took a moment to construct the sentence in his head. “Give me a summarised version, then.”

Sasuke looked away again, pale-faced even as his eyes went lightless. “... Tazuna lied about his contract. Some asshole took over the whole country. He sent Zabuza to stop Tazuna from building a fucking bridge.” Bitter, even more so than the staccato sentences themselves. Angry that a stranger had risked their lives for a mere construct. There were so many outside factors that could have gone into that decision – political and economical aspects that were unreasonable to expect a child to understand – but it didn’t change the echo of murderous fury that tasted like blood in the back of Kakashi’s throat. “... Sakura killed him.” Dark. An uncomfortable pause before he grit the words out, as if Sasuke wasn’t entirely sure how to shape them.

Anger froze over instantly. Memory burned behind Kakashi’s eyes like a flashback, the sound of bone shattering, the stench of blood as Sakura had shot past him, the way her killing intent had erupted outward like a savage tide, strong enough to make everything go even more hazy than it had been. If he’d been any less chakra-deprived it wouldn’t have stunned him – Kakashi was inured to the deadliest of killing intents – but Sakura’s was lethal.

Light pressure at his hands dragged Kakashi out of his own head, and Gai’s concerned gaze resolved before him. One hand was held between both of Gai’s, a steady firm pressure that held his attention. The other had been trapped under one of Pakkun’s paws, the touch of blunt claws on his skin a reminder of the ninken’s presence. When he glanced towards Pakkun, he was licked.

_ Fuck. _

Beyond where Gai sat by Kakashi’s bed, Sasuke was watching them in silence, eyes narrow. Kakashi wasn’t entirely sure what Sasuke saw, while he observed, and after a moment he decided that he didn’t want to. There was too much of Sasuke’s brother in that look, the keenness with which Itachi had always read him no matter how many masks Kakashi layered on. Out of principle, Kakashi refused to look away – he was the jōnin, damn it, he had shed more enemy blood than his own body could produce in his entire lifetime – but it took more than a minute of sticky silence before Sasuke broke.

When he finally did, Kakashi dropped his own gaze with bitter relief in his chest. It felt like he’d breathed in liquid metal, heavy and toxic, the weight of the damage his kids now bore. He hadn’t intended to take them into something so dangerous – of course he hadn’t,  _ never  _ – but it didn’t matter, because it never mattered, because they were too close and they would still be too close the next time Kakashi’s karmic guillotine fell, and it always,  _ always _ did, on the people who dared to care about him, on the people he was selfish enough to risk—

_ —and Sasuke had hesitated, and Sakura hadn’t— _

Once more, a gentle squeeze of his hand dragged him out of the thought spiral. Kakashi spared Gai another glance, an obligation of gratitude he felt he had to fulfil, even if Gai just gave him an encouraging grin in return, as if their interaction was entirely benign. Skipping over Gai, Kakashi focused on his kunoichi.

Hinata looked… almost peaceful, her hair splayed across her pillow in a dark halo. “Gai says Hinata’s sedated?” he asked quietly, watching for Sasuke’s reaction in his periphery. Sasuke glanced towards Gai – dangerous,  _ dangerous, _ acknowledging his presence out loud, opening the door for Sasuke to question it – before settling on Hinata as well.

For just a moment, there was raw fear on his face. “Yeah.” His voice still low, every sentence curt. “She dislocated her hip. The med-nins said she needs to keep still. She’s mostly just been sleeping.” Kakashi offered a hum of acknowledgement. It took a conscious reminder to himself not to just let Sasuke hang and wonder, but now was not the time to enforce whatever distance between them there might be. Shaken as he was, Sasuke needed reassurance more than he needed to be protected from Kakashi’s curse. It was too late for that anyway – or they wouldn’t be here in the first place.

The hand that had been holding his book was scrunched up in Sasuke’s blanket.

“They’ve woken her up to eat?”  _ Sedated _ was not the same as  _ anaesthetised, _ and if they’d felt the need to drug her to ensure she didn’t jostle her hip, then it meant she was awake and active enough without sedation to worry them.

“Mm.”

Only when Kakashi felt his shoulders relax did he realise he’d tensed up as he’d asked. “... Good.” There would be no less damage done to Hinata’s psyche, the fear and paranoia that Kakashi  _ knew _ he was going to have to work through with them. With Sasuke it was already obvious how it would take its toll; he was withdrawing, watching with less curiosity and sharper wariness. Kakashi very much doubted that it would strike Hinata the same way; she was more likely to internalise it, to take on an even deeper fear than she’d had before. She’d doubted her ability to do out-of-village missions before she’d ever had the chance to try. No matter how unfair this mission had been to her, she would take it as a mark of her own inadequacy.

A soft rumble under his fingers told Kakashi he’d tightened them in Pakkun’s short fur, and he didn’t need to look but he forced himself to ease his grip, gave the ninken an apologetic scratch. Pakkun licked his hand, an instant forgiveness, and snorted softly as he settled back down.

Movement from the floor took everyone’s attention for a second, as Urushi got to their paws. For a split second, Kakashi thought they were going to climb up and fight Pakkun for a spot on his bed – and then they padded quietly over to Sasuke’s bed instead, calmly made a chakra-assisted jump, and walked in one tight circle before settling at Sasuke’s side.

Something molten burst in Kakashi’s chest like a bubble, and he let out a soft exhale. There were no words for how reassuring it was, that the pack was taking in his genin without needing to be persuaded, especially Urushi out of all of them – but equally was it terrifying. Perhaps the pack could protect them from the danger Kakashi put them in. Sasuke flinched slightly as Urushi lay down by him, their back pressed lightly to Sasuke’s thigh through his blanket, but it only took a few moments for him to pet them. His shoulders visibly dropped as he did, the unspoken soothing that only an animal could offer (even a sentient one like the summons) working its magic.

Once more, Kakashi’s gaze slid to Pakkun. Perhaps, if his kids were already cursed with him, he could offer them something else as well. He might as well take a shot at redemption.

Setting aside the thought for now, Kakashi looked back to his genin. Sakura was paler than Hinata, her expression drawn in a way that was anything but peaceful.  _ Still unconscious, _ Gai had said.  _ Still.  _ What had happened to her after Kakashi had summoned Ūhei that kept her down for longer than Kakashi himself? “You said Sakura killed the Wave tyrant?” And he remembered, now, with such acute clarity it was almost painful, that Sakura had come from the rooftop of Tazuna’s house, that she’d stormed up to their deadly foe without a trace of fear, soaked in blood and carrying a blade she  _ must _ have stolen. He remembered, how she’d shoved a freshly severed head into Zabuza’s hand – how she’d callously gripped its hair and not trembled in the slightest as she’d threatened to cut the man’s femoral artery. He remembered, now, that once again she’d behaved as if she was a battle-hardened shinobi and Kakashi had been able to find not a trace of the child she appeared.

The thought tripped something in Kakashi’s head, and suspicion tumbled ice cold down his spine. She  _ appeared _ to be a child. There was only one other person Kakashi knew who could maintain a permanently youthful appearance, who wore a henge so sophisticated it could – theoretically – fool even the Sharingan: Tsunade. Combined with the fact that Sakura knew medical ninjutsu and had, twice now, demonstrated Tsunade’s other iconic technique…

As absurd as the theory was, upon first examination, it held up under the rapid scrutiny Kakashi gave it. Gods, Sakura had even admitted it at the start of their training, the day she’d first shown the ability she shouldn’t have.  _ “I want to be like her someday.” _ The aspiration to emulate Tsunade. It hadn’t been unbelievable at the time; Tsunade  _ was _ the Hokage. Plenty of young shinobi aspired to be like her.

But this… There were too many coincidences. Things never lined up so seamlessly by chance. The effort that getting into her position would have taken was immense to the point of redundancy – anyone who could pull off such an elaborate scheme surely had the power and cunning to not  _ need _ to do so – and yet Kakashi could see the way each suspicious thread might weave together to accomplish it. Building a unique henge that mimicked Tsunade’s was time- and chakra-consuming, but not unreasonable. Knowing medical ninjutsu would only need training, and Sakura had the chakra control for it. Nothing except her age made her ability in it unusual. And the strength technique… Admittedly, it was harder to explain than the other things, but Tsunade had been gone from Konoha for a long time before returning to lead it. If she could pick up one acolyte in Shizune, there was no reason she couldn’t have trained an apprentice at some point.

Gai squeezed his hand yet again, but this time Kakashi twitched at the sensation, almost pulled away. He didn’t need anchoring this time – he was  _ very much _ present. Rage boiled up around Kakashi’s new theory, a raw and violent thing. Maybe, after all, there  _ had _ been a Haruno Sakura who fit the profile he’d been given prior to meeting his team. Maybe Kakashi was right in thinking something awful had happened to her right before her graduation – maybe it had been the assumption she’d  _ survived _ that he’d gotten wrong.

If Kakashi’s wakeful recovery had been measurable in days – or hells, even  _ hours _ – instead of minutes, he might have acted on the spot. It had been a long, long time since he’d done anything in blind anger, but the idea that one of his genin was an immaculately smuggled spy, that it had cost the girl in Sakura’s profile her  _ life— _

Kakashi wasn’t sure if Sasuke had responded to his question, but he no longer cared. “Sasuke.” Fury manifested in his voice in the form of a snarl, and (one hand in Urushi’s fur) Sasuke went rigid. “Sakura started behaving differently when you lot graduated, didn’t she?”

It was unfair, it was  _ monstrously unfair, _ but Sasuke’s gaze shot to Sakura and then back to Kakashi. His voice was tauter than a drawn bowstring when he replied, shredded through gritted teeth. “... Yeah. Like she’s someone else.”

As if Kakashi had outright presented his thoughts.

Her closest friend had confirmed many times that Sakura wasn’t herself. Not aloud – at least, not to Kakashi – but he’d spoken of it with Hinata, and it had been written plainly in every worried little look Sasuke thought nobody had seen, in the way those looks had darkened into fear into anger into resentment. Sakura was not herself.

Maybe the sentiment was literal.

Pakkun nipped Kakashi’s hand, jolting him out of his thoughts. Only that the med-nin would have noticed if Sakura was faking her unconsciousness let him take his gaze off her. Deep brown eyes bored darkly into his, a seriousness that Pakkun rarely brought to bear. Of course, Kakashi’s sudden shift in emotions was obvious to everyone – a failure, on his part, a lack of self-control that couldn’t be allowed to continue – but Pakkun knew him better than almost anyone. He’d have picked it up no matter how well it was hidden.

With one hand, Gai placidly caught Kakashi’s attention.  _ [Explain.] _

Unlike the much less complicated field signals Konoha used for combat or stealth communication – all of which could be made single-handed – longform Konoha sign language wasn’t a required skill for shinobi ranked below jōnin. Even Anbu members weren’t strictly obliged to learn it, though it was strongly recommended. There were similarities, enough so that knowing the standard field signals often gave just enough context to puzzle it out, but Sasuke knew neither.

Which was only relevant because Gai had chosen to use it to demand an explanation. Part of Kakashi wanted to respond aloud, to get Sasuke’s input on his suspicions, but the (much smaller) part (that sounded aggravatingly like Gai) said that it would be cruel. All evidence aside, it was untested and unproven, and on the off-chance that Kakashi was wrong, offering the idea to Sasuke first meant it would worm its way into his mind like a parasite.

Sasuke clearly understood what was happening when Kakashi claimed his hands back to respond, movements shakier than he’d have liked, but no matter how obvious it was what they were discussing, Sasuke was completely barred from it. Judging by the scowl on his face, he didn’t like that in the slightest.

_ [Sakura isn’t herself.] _ Frowns met him, Gai’s more reserved than felt natural, and Pakkun’s confused.  _ [She underwent a drastic behavioural change, seemingly overnight. She doesn’t respond like a genin, she responds like she’s seen hard combat. She knows all of Hokage’s personal techniques.] _

Understanding lit in both of their faces, and Gai leant back in his chair to consider the implications. Pakkun licked his lips.  _ [You’re saying she’s an imposter?] _ A simple nod would do, and Kakashi gave it without hesitation. His instincts were rarely wrong; he shouldn’t have let them go so easily.

Never mind if multiple inspections under Sharingan didn’t count as ‘easily’.

_ [She’s a child,] _ Gai rebuked him, still frowning.  _ [How would—] _

Shaking his head this time, Kakashi cut Gai off.  _ [She knows  _ **_Hokage’s_ ** _ techniques. Two out of three isn’t accidental. She knows Hokage’s henge.] _ Which, okay, it was technically still conjecture, but it made  _ so much sense, _ no matter how harebrained and complicated a plot it must be, no matter that Kakashi had yet to assign a valid motive to it. Theft of Konoha’s secrets was sufficient motive for almost anything.

Gai’s hands lifted to argue – always to argue, at least in this, because Gai would take his own life before threatening a Konoha genin – but it was Pakkun who broke in. “If she does, she’s not using it.”

It was said with such implicit confidence that Kakashi felt his whole brain stall. Pakkun was not in the habit of making claims he couldn’t back up. Staring down at the ninken, Kakashi silently invited further explanation. Not that he would ever accuse Pakkun of lying, but such clean dismissal when Kakashi had been so swept up in how everything suddenly seemed to be clicking together,  _ finally, _ was like being slapped. The roaring train of thought was a hair’s breadth away from being derailed.

Shifting slightly to lie on his other side, Pakkun cocked his head. “She's down from chakra exhaustion, boss.” There was an… uncharacteristically soft note in his voice. “Wood team had to give her a chakra transfusion when we got there.”

And all at once, the brand new certainty crumbled away. The rising anger shattered into guilt.

Utakata’s team had a Hyuuga on board. If they’d given a  _ genin _ a chakra transfusion (and the ache in Kakashi’s sternum flared up once more at even the thought), and they’d done it  _ in the field, _ then Sakura’s situation would have been utterly dire. It meant that she’d truly burned through every scrap of chakra she could drag together, it meant that she’d been just as close to death as the rest of her team. It meant she’d been willing to throw away all caution to save them.

It meant that even a henge such as Tsunade’s would have failed.

It meant that, once more, Kakashi was thoroughly fucking wrong.

* * *

Sasuke had technically been discharged several days ago, but there was precious little else for him to do, Hinata supposed. Still, it was heartwarming that he was spending most of his time in the ward with them anyway; she was pretty sure she’d said that aloud, at some point, when she’d been awake but still very woozy with the sedatives, but thankfully nobody had thought to mention it.

Opposite them – sitting up today, slowly sipping his way through a jug of water – Kakashi-sensei was watching them carefully. His thoughts were as indecipherable as ever while he stayed quiet most of the time. Was it professionalism (even here) that kept him so, or was it… worse than that, somehow? Hard to tell at the best of times, and impossible while her thoughts were still a little dulled. He at least didn’t seem unduly upset today.

Next to her, Sasuke tapped the little tray attached to Hinata’s bed; it held the remnants of Hinata’s lunch and a mirrored array of playing cards. It was her turn again. Considering her hand, Hinata tried to focus on strategy and gleaning whatever she could from Sasuke’s pokerface; to her left was a distracting and uncomfortable bubble where Sakura lay in bed with a parent on either side, and her shoulders hunched forward. Not that her parents didn’t seem doting and worried, almost overbearingly so, but there was a sense of irritation simmering between them. Sakura had already snapped at them today – under her breath, admittedly, but not quiet enough to hide. She’d apologised right afterwards, of course, a quiver in her voice like she might suddenly cry, but it hung over them still. That her parents couldn’t understand her, that they were having doubts about supporting their daughter’s career choice.

Hinata couldn’t quite get her head around why it upset Sakura so much. She’d spoken affectionately enough of her parents, on the rare occasion they came up during training, but actually seeing them interact was…

Well, in any case, Hinata didn’t need to watch them. They were still Sakura’s parents – and failing that, Kakashi-sensei was fulfilling the duty anyway. Even with his hair loosely concealing the left half of his face and his ever-present mask, the dislike in his black eye was blatant.

A narrow white nose touched one of the cards in Hinata’s hands. “Play this,” Shiba said haltingly. Lanky as she was, where she lay on the left side of the bed, she was all but draped over Hinata while they played.

They’d met the rest of Kakashi-sensei’s ninken by now, drifting in and out of the room alongside Itachi-sensei and Gai-sensei, but Pakkun, Shiba, Urushi, and Ūhei had stayed for their entire recovery. Urushi spent most of their time in Sasuke’s lap, sprawled in a position that  _ had _ to be uncomfortable, though neither party would admit it. Pakkun didn’t leave Kakashi-sensei's side, and Urushi joined him whenever Sasuke had to leave.

Shiba had taken to Hinata, and spent whatever time she could get away with pressed up to Hinata’s good side, a soft, warm weight that eased even the most tightly knotted anxiety. As strange as it seemed for a dog not to have fur, there was something comforting in the warmth of Shiba’s skin, like the supplest leather. And Ūhei kept to Sakura, currently curled up on her feet, watching her parents with a calm stare. Hinata had to wonder to herself, in between card games, what Ūhei was thinking. She spoke little, and quietly, but every time she did it softened Sakura’s gaze, eased her shoulders back, brought a faint smile dancing on her lips.

And it was absolutely transparent, what Kakashi-sensei’s ninken were doing. When the pack was eight members strong, but only four of them chose to stay in here permanently, with the way each of them had claimed a member of Team Seven. It was obvious, in observation, that Ūhei and Urushi both offered Sakura and Sasuke the same reassurance Hinata drew from Shiba.

Much less obvious, the moments in which Kakashi-sensei took comfort from Pakkun’s presence, but they were there in the way Kakashi dug his fingers into Pakkun’s fur, in the low rumble of Pakkun’s voice. Never quite loud enough for Hinata to fathom the words, but enough.

“Hinata.”

Snapping back to the present, Hinata realised she’d gotten lost inside her own head again. It was happening less and less as the med-nin tapered off the sedatives, but it hadn’t stopped entirely yet. Realising made Hinata’s cheeks burn, but she picked out the card Shiba had selected and played it. “Sorry, Sasuke.” For a moment, Shiba lay her head against Hinata’s arm.

Sasuke shook his head, playing a card himself, and then absently petted Urushi's spine. “Don’t worry about it.” He’d gotten used to it, at least. He didn’t really have much choice, perhaps, but he wasn’t required to spend all his free time in here, with them. “What were you thinking about?”

Without much thought, Hinata picked a card at random and put it down. “The ninken.” Shiba let out a soft whuff, laying her head back down, and Urushi flicked their ears. Quirking one eyebrow, Sasuke played a response and silently asked her to elaborate. Folding her hand, Hinata shifted slightly to put an arm around Shiba’s shoulders, wincing as it jostled her hip, and wondered if she was about to be rude. “Well… normally, summoned creatures will go back to their own realm when they’re not— I mean, not ‘in use’, but… Sorry, Shiba.”

Urushi snorted, picking their head up. “Don’t worry about it. You wanna know why we can come and go so freely. Yeah?”

While confusion filled Sasuke’s face, Hinata just nodded. It was something she’d tentatively wondered, watching the way Kakashi-sensei’s pack came and went. Of course, Kakashi couldn’t be summoning them himself right now – but they didn’t seem to be summoning themselves, either, or desummoning themselves when they left. Entirely possible that they simply weren’t doing so within their hospital room, but Hinata didn’t think so. She couldn’t quite pin down why she was so certain of it, that there was something strange about the ninken. Urushi’s words seemed to back her up, though, a tacit admission that they weren’t typical summons somehow.

Quietly, she hoped Sasuke didn’t ask her how she knew anything about summons in the first place. There were lots of things Hinata had read about, deep into the night, that she would prefer not to say. There was only so far she could go under her own power, after all, what little there was of it. External ways to get stronger would, sooner than later, become her only option.

Flicking their ears again, Urushi set their head down on their paws, considering an answer. “We’ve got our own realm, like other summons.”

“Tsuki no Mori,” Shiba interrupted, her voice soft with deep affection. Her tail wagged gently against Hinata’s calf. “Beautiful.”

Urushi nodded. “Yep. Do you guys know about ancestral contracts, yet?” they asked, looking between Sasuke and Hinata. The words rose on her tongue, acknowledgement that she did, but Hinata swallowed them. Revealing that she knew, when Kakashi-sensei hadn’t taught them, would only beg questions she didn’t want to answer. Averting her eyes, Hinata waited until Sasuke took her silence as denial, and shook his head. Humming, Urushi took the time to twist in Sasuke’s lap, scratching one ear, perfectly content to let the genin wait. “Well,” they started again, settling back, “most of the summons lineages only have one summoning contract bound to humans. And most of those are held by a specific clan, so they’re considered ancestral. A sort of… heirloom jutsu, I guess.” They flicked their ears, looked up at Sasuke, and a faintly smug gleam came into their eyes. “Can you figure out  _ why _ we’d only give one contract to you lot?”

Meeting Sasuke’s gaze, Hinata watched him consider it. She had some thoughts – pride of the clan, or the lineage, or both, or compatibility of summons to shinobi – but Hinata held them silently. Her answers were never satisfactory, and there was no reason to think that this would be different. Besides, anything she said could lead to more questions.

After a few moments of companionable silence, Sasuke offered an answer, absently stroking Urushi’s fur. “Shinobi are always fighting; I assume you don’t want to end up fighting other ninken summons. Right?”

Tail wagging ever so slightly, Urushi flicked their ears again, smiling. There were a lot of teeth involved. “That’s the primary reason, yeah. Generally it’s because most lineages don’t contract out specific individuals to every shinobi or samurai on their contract. Really unpleasant to find yourself fighting a littermate cause your summoners don’t like each other.” They said it darkly, but their face remained placid. At least, as far as Hinata could tell. Reading a dog was far harder than reading her teammates. “But there's an element of compatibility, as well. We took contracts with clans that suited us.”

Sasuke let out a soft noise of understanding. “Clans tend to specialise in specific things. You want to make sure your summoners work well with what you can do.” Internally, Hinata glowed. She’d thought that! Probably a lucky guess, but it was still nice to find she’d thought something right. At her side, Shiba uttered another soft whuff.

“Pretty much. And long term contracts tend to affect the shinobi too,” Urushi confirmed.

Pausing where he was scratching their ears – and getting a low grumble for his efforts – Sasuke voiced another thought through a light frown. “You said ‘shinobi  _ or samurai’  _ earlier.”

This time, Shiba let out an amused bork; not quite a bark, quieter, less startling. “Shinobi are silly.” Said with an affectionate lick of Hinata’s arm. “You are not the only one who has chakra.” While true – there were plenty of alternative professions that encouraged or required chakra training, doctors and samurai being chief amongst them – shinobi were by far the most prevalent. Sometimes Hinata forgot that there were other things she could one day aspire to be. Things that wouldn’t care about her lacklustre abilities in battle. Disappointment and hope fluttered in her stomach in equal measure.

“I still don’t understand why you— Why Tsuki no Mori is different,” she intoned softly, keeping her tone apologetic. If it sounded like she blamed her own ignorance, the ninken was less likely to take it as an accusation somehow.

Urushi rumbled low in their chest, and shot a quick glance across the room to Kakashi. Following their eyes, Hinata saw Pakkun watching them back. “We get contracted on an individual basis; I’m part of Kakashi’s pack, and only Kakashi can summon me. For example.” There was boundless affection in their voice as they said Kakashi-sensei’s name, a love that ran so deep Hinata wasn’t even sure she recognised it. Jealousy flared, ever so gently, under her skin. “Our contract has belonged to the Hatake clan for generations. When we sign into one of their packs, we get keyed into a summoning matrix set up in their compound.” A pause while they let Hinata and Sasuke digest that. “Konoha is our permanent home.”

Quicker on the uptake, as he ever was, Sasuke opened his mouth first. “So when you desummon, you end up back on Hatake land instead of going home to Tsuki no Mori?”

Urushi grunted a confirmation.

“That’s how Ūhei got here so fast, isn’t it?” Blurted out before she could stop herself, and Hinata felt the burn of colour in her cheeks, but Shiba gave a pleased hum, tail wagging. “I mean— When Kakashi-sensei summoned her.”

Shiba’s tail continued thumping lightly against Hinata’s leg, but Urushi looked troubled for a moment. Glanced across to Kakashi and Pakkun again. “Yeah. She went straight to the Hokage. Fastest bitch I’ve ever met.” A hint of amusement wove into their voice, looking across Hinata towards Sakura.

Turning to see, Hinata caught Sakura’s gaze for a second, where she was checking to see what had attracted Ūhei's attention, ears perked. She must have heard her name.

Sakura’s expression was… strained. Half a smile there, as her parents fussed and worried and tried to reassure their daughter that they were proud of her no matter what she chose to do after this – but it was ruined by the shadow in her eyes, the faint twist of anger in her lips that she couldn’t quite fully hide. Pained tension in her shoulders, a little too much relief in her sighs when they would finally have to leave. Sakura had been awake and responsive for four days now, and her parents had been here for all of them, as long as the hospital would allow.

Four days, and six months of training with Sakura, and Hinata  _ really _ needed to find out their names.

There was something in the way that they interacted with their daughter that felt… wrong, somehow. Hinata couldn’t put her finger on it. Sakura was headstrong and sure of herself, but she was usually very sweet. Too many times she had snapped, albeit quietly, and then fallen over herself apologising.

Maybe it was just the stress. Their bodies might be healing, but Hinata could see the psychological damage in her team. In herself. Sasuke flinched every time the bruises on his neck were checked, had to fight to keep his breathing even. Hinata was almost certain that Kakashi-sensei wasn’t sleeping. There’d been one night, when Hinata was also pretending, where Sakura hadn’t been able to fully muffle her quiet weeping.

But still, something about watching Sakura talk with her parents prickled down Hinata’s spine like senbon points. Most of the time, she just tried not to.

Hinata offered a slight smile back anyway, hoping against all odds that she was helping, somehow, and then turned back to her own conversation. Grim anger clouded Sasuke’s face.

It could be a long time before he forgave Sakura for leaving them. Unfair, to pass judgement before she’d even had the chance to explain herself, but there had been nothing fair about the mission since the moment Tazuna had shown up insulting them, and that Hinata and Sasuke had been forced to fight Zabuza on their own was no exception.

Even if Tazuna had been right, in the end. Even if they had failed in every capacity.

Silently, Sasuke picked up the cards, shuffled them all back together, and then dealt out another hand for himself and Hinata. He won most of the rounds – it was a game he’d only taught her the day before, unfamiliar as Hinata was with cards. She’d never had the opportunity to play before.

There was a sense of tension in the air that hadn’t gone away since Hinata had gotten more lucid, something between them all that reminded her of Zabuza’s hand around her neck. It eased, just a little, when Itachi-sensei took Sasuke home and Sakura’s parents were gone and it was just the three of them, but it never faded fully. Hinata couldn’t figure out what to do about it, if there  _ was _ even anything to be done.

Today was no different, as Sasuke played cards with Hinata and ignored everyone else until Itachi arrived. Urushi got a cuddle before they jumped off Sasuke’s lap, and Hinata got a brief moment of interlaced fingers, a gentle squeeze before he went to his brother’s side. Kakashi got a low “Good night, Sensei,” as he went past, while Urushi jumped up beside Pakkun. Sakura – watching with liquid eyes, refusing to look at her parents where they hovered and exchanged worried glances – got nothing.

Sakura’s parents gave her hugs, while she kept her eyes down and awkwardly returned them, and reluctantly followed the Uchihas out. The first night Sakura had been awake, it had taken two nurses to harry them out at the end of visiting hours.

For a few minutes after they left, nobody said anything. Sakura sank down in her bed, her blanket pulled up to her chin, as if she was hiding. Ūhei moved up slightly, sprawling across Sakura’s legs, her head laid against Sakura’s stomach. One hand snuck out from under the blankets, slipped under Ūhei’s jaw. Her tail thumped, ever so slowly, against the bed while Sakura scritched. Hinata couldn’t clearly see her face tonight, but she knew what it would look like – the same as every other night. Sad and scared and trying, in vain, to hide both.

Across from them, Kakashi-sensei sat propped against an excess of pillows, writing something out against a clipboard borrowed from the hospital. He’d been working at it on and off for days now, in between talking quietly whenever Gai-sensei was around, and brooding with Pakkun. Hinata was pretty sure that it was a written report, not that she’d asked. She was curious, though, exactly how thorough it would be. It felt presumptuous to question it, but Kakashi-sensei had been unconscious for most of the mission. The parts of it that mattered, anyway. If he intended to ask them for details, he hadn’t yet; but  _ offering _ them unasked was so insolent that even just the thought made her flinch.

So instead, Hinata petted Shiba quietly and watched Kakashi-sensei work in the light of his lamp. He had to know she was watching, of course he did, but he didn’t acknowledge it. It was still strange, to see him in such a…  _ vulnerable _ position. Bundled up with his dogs, hair barely covering his Sharingan eye, arms bare but for a bandage wrap around his left bicep, unarmed. The edge of power that he usually displayed – a vague aura of contempt, of danger, some unseen sense that Hinata couldn’t quite name – was gone, for now.

She’d tried not to notice, initially, while he’d chipped away at the report. Gloveless. There was no shortage of reasons for Kakashi-sensei to have scars; all shinobi did, it was just part of the job. Even genin came out of the Academy with scars, mistakes made while learning how to use their weapons, markers of sparring as they’d grown older and gotten more violent. A jōnin of Kakashi’s power and prestige could only be expected to carry many.

But Hinata had seen, in brief glimpses, in faint shadows as Kakashi wrote, scars that looked different. Hard to be certain – Hinata would need a closer look to be sure, and there was no power in the world that could compel her to ask – but they were familiar. Catching herself eyeing Kakashi-sensei’s arms made shame uncurl between her ribs, long and delicate fingers that wove endlessly around her bones until she wanted to shake herself free of them. There was no escape from the guilt of seeking out a better look at his scars, but it wasn’t enough to make her stop. Spotting darker ones, long and deep purple, only made her own scars itch where they lay across her thighs in slender white lines. Her guilt was well-deserved.

“Hinata?”

Sakura’s voice was tiny, a half-muffled squeak that shot through the silence like an explosive tag. When Hinata looked over, she could barely make out Sakura’s eyes, faintly reflecting Kakashi’s lamp, only just peeking over the edge of her blanket. Drawn brows cast shadows over them.

Hinata hummed an acknowledgement, trying not to feel Kakashi’s gaze lift to them. She probably deserved the scrutiny, after all, but it still made her blood run cold.

Another moment of silence went by, Sakura’s gaze darting down to Ūhei for reassurance, before she looked back to meet Hinata’s eyes. Flickered. “I’m… I’m sorry.” Whispered. It wasn’t the  _ first _ time she’d spoken to her team since she woke up, but her words had been few and far between in the absence of her parents, and even more meaningless.

Her voice cracked as she apologised.

Glancing away, Hinata caught Kakashi’s eye for just a second, and then twitched back in her bed, focusing on Shiba. Dark eyes looked back, molten and gentle. Shiba licked Hinata’s hand. Instinct burned on Hinata’s tongue, the need to say that it was okay, that Sakura didn’t need to worry about it or apologise. Dismissal of the fact that Hinata was hurt, because her feelings didn’t matter, had never mattered, and only ever got in the way.

But… it stuck, like chewing on foam. For a minute, Hinata struggled with it, unsure if she was fighting to say it or to  _ not _ say it, every emotion an ache that felt like it might burst out of her chest.

Eventually, her voice just as small as her teammate’s, Hinata managed a response.

“I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Annual List of Thoughts and Stuff:  
> || Look, listen, I know that Kishimoto tried to make Kakashi’s whole pack of ninken male but absolutely fuck that. No, I do not take criticism.  
> || On that note, a rundown of the Hatake pack as it currently stands:  
> \- **Akino** | male chowchow-husky cross.  
> \- **Bisuke** | female cocker spaniel mix.  
> \- **Bull** | male old english bulldog.  
> \- **Guruko** | male beagle spaniel cross.  
> \- **Pakkun** | male miniature pug. Please note that I'm deliberately altering Pakkun's design to be that of a longer-muzzled pug, as the punch-face version you're all familiar with is a fucking abomination and needs to be bred out of existence. The poor things CANNOT BREATHE, and quite aside from the obvious well-being problems, how the fuck is a ninja dog supposed to ninja if he can't fucking breathe.  
> \- **Shiba** | female xoloitzcuintli.  
> \- **Ūhei** | female greyhound.  
> \- **Urushi** | nonbinary jack russel terrier mix.  
> || You will never, ever convince me that the jōnin don’t all know fancy sign language or that they don’t use it to _talk shit._  
>  || One of my favourite things about writing something like this is that exactly **nobody** is a reliable narrator. Everything they observe and conclude is biased in whatever way that character has – and all of them have biases and traumas and misinterpretations of the people around them. It’s absolutely fascinating to watch the way they see another character do or say something and come to a conclusion about what it means or why they did it that _I know is completely inaccurate_ because I know what all the other characters are thinking and feeling, but my PoV character doesn’t.  
> || I’m sorry this is a few days late! It fought me hard right up until the very end – but everything yields in the face of boundless spite.  
> || A huge thanks to my beta readers, who do an amazing job in making sure this whole thing makes sense and stays internally consistent!
> 
> And finally, as always, a link to my [authory Tumblr](https://silverstarlightwrites.tumblr.com/%5D) where any and all updates can be found for this fic. This is where I'll post warnings if a chapter will be a little late and any other relevant updates. ^^
> 
> Next Chapter Due: **2nd January 2021**


	13. With Wounds So Sharp, They Cut Like Glass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When everyone lives, it's the damage that comes after that cuts the deepest.

In the failure of his newest theory – ill-thought-out and born from sleep deprivation and frustration – Kakashi had taken only a few days to settle on another. This one wasn’t a  _ new _ theory, not really, not when he’d already contemplated it before. Even asked her about it, once, and gotten  _ I don’t want to talk about it. _ If Sakura had been a spy, hiding behind Tsunade’s unique henge, then it could have been explained as holding cover; he’d presented her a reason to blame her twitchiness on, of course she’d have agreed.

But now…

Watching his genin during the day was a task that Kakashi almost wished he could dedicate less energy to. It consumed him, taking discreet notes while he pretended to read Icha Icha, Pakkun quietly nestled at his side. He’d had a real copy out, the first day he’d been awake, after everything had settled a little. Barely been able to pay attention to it, his gaze constantly drifting to where Hinata and Sakura lay motionless, to where Sasuke curled up around Urushi and napped. Gai had been his anchor, quietly humming or muttering away about his own genin, not caring if Kakashi was actually listening. It never mattered, somehow, whether Kakashi actually listened. Just that he had the option to.

He’d felt like he was heading into battle when a med-nin had come by to check on them. Soft questions that Sasuke had sleepily answered through Urushi’s fur, and a stern stare as she’d interrogated Kakashi. She wasn’t a med-nin that Kakashi recognised, but she knew exactly what to do with him. The specific protocol he wasn’t supposed to know they had for him was taught early, apparently.

Kakashi’s hands had gotten so tight on his book while the med-nin had checked over Sakura’s vitals that Gai had gently taken it away from him, setting it down and replacing it with his own hands. Gai hadn’t made a sound, no matter how hard Kakashi squeezed. It hadn’t been any easier watching her deem Sakura safe and move on to Hinata.

The days since had bled that specific tension out of him, watching them recover.  _ Trusting _ in their recovery felt like biting a baited hook, but there was nothing else to be done. The med-nin said they would be okay, so Kakashi told himself – over and over and over – to believe it.

But as that immediate fear had slowly faded, others had risen in its place, a sense of dread and a numbing anger that never dulled. Hinata was quiet and anxious, and Kakashi knew how deeply torn her self-confidence would be, how much more work would need to go into rebuilding what Zabuza – what  _ Tazuna _ – had stolen from her. How  _ hard _ that was going to be when she returned, each night, to the cold judgement of her clan and the sneered disappointment of her father.

As if the man had the  _ right.  _ As if he  _ dared _ to harm Hinata. Hiashi's child, perhaps, but she was  _ Kakashi’s genin _ now, and he was sick of letting it continue. No matter how hard they tried, there would be no unlearning her self-doubt when it was reinforced the moment she slipped away from Kakashi’s hold each day.

None of Hinata’s clanmates had come to visit her. Not even her father, not even her sister. Hanabi was too young, in all likelihood, to be allowed to make that decision herself, but even so the lack of concern from Hinata’s family made Kakashi’s blood boil. She’d had more Uchiha visitors than Hyuuga.

For now, he put it aside. It wasn’t a problem he could solve by ramming his head against it, no matter how hard. He had ideas, of course, but they needed refining. When he  _ did _ step in, his actions needed to be swift and unyielding. If Kakashi gave the Hyuuga tyrant even the shadow of a chance to stop him interfering, Hiashi would never let it go. Down that path lay the opportunity for violence, and Kakashi couldn’t risk coming to blows with one of Konoha’s founding clans.

Even the thought ached, deep in his upper arm.

Sasuke was no better off. He’d spent every day in the ward with them, despite being discharged a week earlier, and he’d spent most of them doggedly talking to Hinata and no one else. He responded well enough whenever Kakashi  _ did _ call on him, and he offered a quiet greeting in the mornings and a farewell at nights, but he didn’t initiate any other interaction. He refused to speak to Sakura at all.

And neither was Sakura in any less sorry a state. Demure with her parents, right up until the moments she wasn’t – and scrambling to apologise immediately afterwards. There was fear in her, a terror that shone through now, so clearly, when they were all back in Konoha and as safe as they ever could be at Kakashi’s side, that had been absent when she faced down their deaths at Zabuza’s hand.

What was worse,  _ here at home,  _ that she was more afraid than she had been of the Demon of the Mist?

Kakashi had an idea, and it made him want to split the spines of those responsible.

It was made all the more obvious, the night before their formal discharge. Sakura had recovered from extreme chakra fatigue faster than Kakashi had – which wasn’t a surprise given Kakashi’s track record – but since she was still so young, the med-nin had insisted she stay the full term of observation. It wasn’t often that genin hit fatigue, and the effects could be drastically worse for their underdeveloped chakra network than for an adult's. A truth that Kakashi could personally attest to.

Hinata had watched him for a while, that night, like she always did once Sasuke left. He’d actually been scribbling away at his official written report this time, pieced together from the verbal recounts he’d demanded of his genin and supplemented with his own commentary based on long experience and what scattered information Pakkun and Ūhei could offer. Far too late to still be working on it, when it would be handed in tomorrow, but Kakashi had found time slipping away in other tasks. Notes on the damage to his kids, observations of new behaviours, thoughts on what he could do to help them.

There was still enough light to continue their lessons in Konoha sign language – a subject he’d begun teaching them at Sasuke’s request, and one that only made sense since they didn't already know it. There weren’t more physical lessons they were giving up in order to learn; it would be some time longer before those resumed. But Kakashi refrained, unwilling to continue without Sasuke’s presence. As worried as Kakashi was that the boy would use what he learned to reverse-engineer the conversation Kakashi had silently conducted with Gai, it was subject matter that they were going to learn at some point anyway. The possibility wouldn’t be lessened by delay.

Eventually, soon after Kakashi had finished up the last of his written report, Hinata finally fell asleep. She hadn’t been sleeping  _ well, _ understandably, but she’d at least slept consistently. Kakashi was running on a few hours at most, and even that not every night. Sakura, he knew, was running on barely any more. It showed, during the day, when she drifted into a haze between the ramblings of her parents – if indeed they even deserved the moniker. It showed in the dark smudges under her eyes, it showed in the moments Kakashi caught her staring at him in the dead of night.

Tonight was worse. Sakura had been jumpy all day, even more jittery than she’d been since she woke up. It wasn’t a surprise that her chakra signature still fluttered faintly against Kakashi’s senses, even deep into the night. She was doing her best to hide it, judging by how committed she was to lying almost fully hidden under her blanket, Ūhei curled up at her back, but it still quivered in the air. Like the touch of spidersilk on his skin and the taste of rosewater.

It wasn’t unusual, given the precedent of every other night they’d shared in their ward room, but it nagged all the same. Sank teeth like needles into Kakashi’s thoughts and worried away at the conclusion he desperately didn’t want to accept. So he lay down with Pakkun and Urushi sprawled on his bed and quieted his own chakra signature.

An hour passed.

Two.

Near the third hour’s close, Sakura stirred. A stronger (but only barely) pulse of her chakra swept the room, like the ethereal touch of a veil, and Kakashi made sure to wind what strands of it connected with his into fraying threads, to echo back only the glutenous oozing of a sleeping shinobi.

Ūhei picked her head up when Sakura slipped out from under their blanket. Chakra woven into his eye – the med-nin would gouge it out if they caught him doing so – Kakashi could pick out the silhouette of Sakura’s movement in the darkness. She gestured, with both hands, for Ūhei to remain silent. A wordless conversation happened between them, only a few seconds long, and Ūhei snorted softly, lay her head back on her front paws, and watched. Only the faintest speck of reflection in her eyes betrayed her.

Shoulders slumping and breathing out a shallow sigh, Sakura crept out from her section of the room and to the end of Hinata’s bed. There was a quiet clack, like the snap of ghostly fingers, as she picked up the clipboard containing all the current information on Hinata’s condition. A shiver went through what Kakashi could feel of her chakra, and then a winking flame came to life at Sakura’s fingertips, illuminating just enough for Sakura to read.

The med-nin would kill her too; Kakashi tried not to feel a distant edge of amusement. He hadn’t been the one to teach her such recklessness, no matter if anyone would  _ believe  _ such a claim. It was overpowered, in any case, by the anxiety that bubbled up as he watched her. The med-nin were right in their strictness – it was dangerous to mould chakra so soon after depleting one's reserves of it, and only more so to sculpt it into a jutsu. Even a jutsu so simple as the Matchlight katon.

For several minutes, Kakashi watched her read. There was no relaxation in Sakura’s shoulders, but she carefully set the clipboard back and released a soft, heavy sigh. The flame at her fingers dimmed as she stood up again, but it didn't extinguish. The outline of her jaw and nose, indistinct shadows in the faint, flickering light, marked her silent approach.

She walked so soundlessly. Had she learned that from Kakashi? Doubtful. The art of moving without noise was a skill that could not be conferred through observation alone; it was something that one learned slowly, over years of mistakes, until one figured out how to test each footstep before it was taken, how to hold the body’s weight high and not in the legs.

Kakashi watched Sakura get close, his eye a narrow slit so as to not catch the light. Her flame flickered as she reached for his clipboard. Fear? Chakra strain? Could be either – or both.

”You should be sleeping.”

It wasn’t meant to come out sharp, but Kakashi heard the cutting edge in his own voice anyway. Quiet, so as not to wake Hinata, but Sakura bit down on a panicked gasp and pulled back into a defensive posture, hands lifted, the clipboard held slightly aloft as if it were a weapon. Her little orange flame went out.

A moment later, her voice cracked the silence. “... S-Sensei?”

Just as quietly, Kakashi sat up. Pakkun shifted ever so slightly, watching. Urushi picked up their head, looked towards Ūhei. Across the room, the greyhound flicked her ears. “What are you doing, Sakura?” Let her interpret what he meant specifically herself – it would be telling, which aspect she chose to explain first. What she was most concerned about him learning. Was it why she was up at all? Why she’d been moulding chakra? Why she was snooping about her team’s medical charts?

Her exhale was shaky, as she slowly lowered Kakashi’s clipboard and set it back where it belonged. Sakura turned her head away, bit her lip in the darkness. “I’m…” Glanced towards Ūhei too, met another twitch of the ninken’s ears. “... I don’t have an excuse. I’m sorry, Sensei.”

Kakashi hummed. Not even an  _ attempt _ to explain herself – complete submission to whatever she thought Kakashi would do in response. Better, in her head, to concede the point entirely, to bear her punishment without mitigation. Was it because she would rather that than share her thoughts? Or was it that she expected any attempt at explanation to be useless? Or worse, inflammatory?

“I don’t care about excuses, Sakura.” Even sharper this time, and she flinched as he spoke. The shadow of her face deepened as she tucked her chin to her collar, shoulders hunched in. Guilt flickered at his fingertips, a brief impulse to take it back. Fear glittered quietly in her averted gaze, and Kakashi hated himself just a little bit more for putting it there. She had enough to fear without his help; he suspected, already, why she might be looking through their files the night before they would be discharged. If there was any kindness left in the world, he’d be wrong.

The world was not a kind place.

Silently, Sakura waited for whatever she thought was coming. “Sakura.” Not even a glance up, but one arm went over her own stomach in a facsimile of a hug, as if she were Hinata. Her other hand flexed, fingers twitching, as if turning over a weapon within them. “Why are you reading our medical files?” From the way she tucked her ankles together, lowered her centre of gravity, tried to make herself smaller, Sakura understood the hidden accusation in his question. She was good at that, disturbingly so. Picking out unspoken meanings, recognising warnings and instructions that she had no right to.

The rules were, admittedly, slightly different for shinobi than they were for civilians, but immediate oversight notwithstanding there was still a level of privacy that came with patient confidentiality. As their jōnin-sensei, Kakashi had the right to snoop into Sakura, Hinata, and Sasuke’s files if he so chose – but the privilege didn’t go both ways. The genin didn’t have the right to read each other’s medical records either, of course not, but it was much less serious an offence than prying into Kakashi’s.

Even if it weren’t for the principle of it, there was too much there to find for Kakashi to risk letting them see it.

A minute went by, awkward and strained. Another.

“Sakura.”

Ūhei’s ears flicked. Pakkun let out a soft whuffle, licked his muzzle. Urushi rumbled.

“I-I… I wanted to… know if you’d be alright.” She kept her head down. Her voice tight.  _ Fearful. _ The girl had stood up to an s-rank enemy, had threatened him without so much as a shiver. Possessed a killing intent hidden underneath her skin that rivalled any of Kakashi’s peers. But this—  _ now, _ she was afraid. Something about this, about being in hospital, safe with her team, in Konoha, was  _ worse. _

Shifting his weight, Kakashi reached over to the little table by his bed and flicked the lamp on, releasing the thread of chakra in his eye as he did. None of the dogs even blinked, pupils contracting in the sudden light, but Sakura flinched and whimpered softly. Squeezed her eyes shut. Normal response? She’d had a flame lit to read by, but it was dimmer than the electric bulb. Unprepared for the sudden light, there was no reason to think that her reaction to it was anything more than expected sensitivity.

It didn’t stop him.

Until Sakura blinked her eyes back open, adjusting to the light, Kakashi stayed his tongue. He was sure there was something he was supposed to say, something he should do. Sakura was his responsibility, and she was wounded and scared; he should be doing something to help her, not frighten her more. It spun in his head like refracted sunlight, the obligation he didn’t know how to fill – and the attempt cut cleanly through his voice, like a blade across his throat.

There was a low snuffle, and Ūhei jumped off Sakura’s bed. She was at the kid’s side in a moment, pushing her head under Sakura’s hand. Slim fingers dug into the combat wraps she wore, and scritched gently. Being careful not to unbalance her, Ūhei leaned against Sakura’s side, applying just enough of her weight to offer support.

Quietly, Pakkun nosed Kakashi’s hand, and he reflexively curled his fingers. “We’ve passed any immediate danger. As long as you take the proper time to rest and recover, you’ll all be fine.” For now, anyway.

Sakura’s eyes narrowed again, and this time she settled them on Kakashi’s face. “And… And you too… Right?”  _ Ah, fuck.  _ He hadn’t meant to discount himself from that reassurance, but it was telling that Sakura jumped on it so fast.

“I’ll be fine.” Kakashi barely listened to his own voice, watching Sakura carefully. It didn’t seem to soothe her – tight shoulders remained so, her gaze skewing to the side, a shallow and sharp inhale. Ūhei made a low noise in her throat, leaning ever so slightly heavier against Sakura, and Sakura leaned back. Her other arm pressed closer to her own stomach, fingers knotted in the loose hospital garb.

Her eyes again flashed briefly towards the board at the end of Kakashi’s bed, and unquiet rage rose up along his spine in a prickling heat, an expansion in his chest that made it hard to breathe evenly. Sakura’s breath caught in her throat, ever so faintly, a shiver of fear that ran up through her face, a bitten lip and glittering eyes. “... Okay.” Sakura backed up several steps, glancing towards Hinata before slowly creeping over to her own bed. It shouldn’t surprise him, that her focus seemed to primarily be on his medical fitness; she was young and afraid, and Kakashi’s presence offered her safety.

It explained why she’d been so desperate to pass the bell test when she didn’t have a clan reputation on the line like her teammates. With Kakashi as her sensei, he was obligated to stand between her and danger. Training everyday, having most of her time consumed by being with him – and away from home – gave her an escape legitimised by the Village.

“You promise?” And it was there, something she couldn’t fully hide, a jagged edge in her voice that she tried to bury under a whisper and failed. Kakashi let his hand clench in his blanket, behind Pakkun’s body where Sakura couldn’t see, and a bolt of pain sliced through the anger. Well on its way to healed thanks to the med-nin, but it would be some few more weeks before Kakashi had full use of his hand back. At least the burn barely hurt anymore.

“I promise.”

The words tasted unfamiliar, a strange flutter of anxiety in his chest as he said them.  _ Liar. _ Maybe they’d all made it home this time, maybe they were okay – or would be, with a lot of effort and even more luck – but it wouldn’t last. It never lasted. Kakashi shouldn’t be making such promises, but… what else could he say? She was already terrified, and so focused on her team’s wellbeing—

On  _ Kakashi’s _ wellbeing.

On whether he was capable of protecting her.

It was almost a joke; he’d already failed to protect her. To protect any of them.

He looked away from her, reached out to turn the lamp off again. “Go to sleep, Sakura.” It came out firmer than he meant, but Sakura looked up at him with worried eyes, looking him over in the once-again dark. Forcing his voice into something softer, he added, “We’ll be discharged tomorrow. Make sure you eat and rest; we start back on Monday.”

“Yes, Sensei.” Whispered, and she slunk back to her bed with Ūhei at her side. Kakashi watched her, weaving chakra back into his eye in a slender thread. Curled up around Ūhei, Sakura tugged the blanket up around her neck and closed her eyes, but it took several more hours for her to actually fall asleep.

Hypocritical of him, to tell her to sleep. It  _ was _ different – Kakashi was older and fully developed, he had more experience than the kids, he needed less sleep and less overall maintenance – but even so…

It took longer than he’d care to admit, but eventually Kakashi did manage to drift off. Far too late, but even a few hours were better than none; there was a lot of work for him to do once he got out of here, once he’d let Sakura go with her parents – it made his jaw clench just thinking about it – and taken Hinata home. For what pathetic value ‘home’ really meant for her, in the Hyuuga compound. Not only would he have to deliver a more complete version of his report to Tsunade, in the privacy of her office without his three kids paying keen attention, but he had to start preparing for… whatever it was he was going to do about the untenable situations his kunoichi were in. He had to visit Tsuki no Mori and get clearance from the Alphas. He had to lay out a plan for continued lessons that wouldn’t put them at risk during the rest of their recovery, and to try and help the genin work through their brand new trauma.

Beyond that, he had to be ready to deal with Gai flitting in and out of his apartment constantly and without warning, watching for any signs of instability, or… worse. Kaida had yet to show up, which meant she was withholding her lecture for the presence of his genin, and no matter how grateful Kakashi was for that decision, it meant that he was in for an earful when she finally got the chance to give it. Whatever sleep he could get was invaluable.

…

He was the first to awaken when the sun rose again, but it only took a few minutes for Hinata to join him. She twitched, waking Shiba who snorted and then yawned, showing off a row of delicate white teeth. A moment later she lay her head on Hinata’s stomach, rumbling a quiet reassurance as Hinata’s eyes shot open.

They swept the room, and Hinata visibly relaxed as recognition cleared her anxious expression. One hand snuck out of her blanket to rest against Shiba’s shoulder. “Good morning, Kakashi-sensei,” she murmured, glancing across to Sakura. Still slumbering, though the tremble of her chakra gave away how shallow that sleep was.

“Morning, Hinata.” It felt too close to a lie, when he’d lied to them so much already, to agree with any assessment of their morning being ‘good.’ Today would be long and trying, for all of them.

Sakura woke several minutes later, offering a greeting as quiet and worried as Hinata’s, and they waited in uneasy silence for the sun to rise fully. Whatever thoughts swirled inside their heads, neither of them spoke aloud, and their eyes stayed down while they petted Kakashi’s ninken.

He wasn’t sure if Sasuke was going to show. Kakashi gave it 50/50 odds; he knew that his team was being discharged today, which theoretically made his presence redundant, but Sasuke also knew as well as any of them the kinds of things Hinata would be facing at home, and they’d been all but attached at the hip the last week or so. There was every chance he’d want to offer his support, what he could, once she was out of hospital.

Kakashi couldn’t help but wonder, given Sasuke’s long-standing friendship with Sakura, if he knew what she faced at home, too. It seemed unlikely, given his recent behaviour with her – but he was a highly skilled shinobi for his age, and an Uchiha to boot. With all the time he’d spent with Sakura in the past, surely he must suspect  _ something. _

Then again, Itachi had given no indication that he knew. If she’d managed to hide it from  _ Itachi, _ then there was every chance Sasuke didn’t know a damn thing.

Trying to put down that line of thinking – and the boiling fury it incited – wasn’t easy, but Kakashi did all the same. As vehemently as he wanted to pull his kunoichi out as soon as possible, any rash action now could ruin his chance to get them into a safe environment later. And it wouldn’t be  _ too much _ later, he promised himself. It would be  _ soon. _ The damage done already could never be erased, but Kakashi would burn Konoha to the ground before he let it continue unchecked.

The anxiety his kunoichi shared was only amplified when, finally, they were set free. Two med-nin – of which Kakashi recognised only the woman – came to run them through the paperwork, which in practice meant handing it over to Kakashi and focusing their efforts on Hinata and Sakura. He barely looked at it as he signed off on their release, watching their interactions across the room. No attempt was even made to get Kakashi to leave in a wheelchair – they knew better – but Sakura was gently encouraged to allow it. She’d recovered well, all things considered, but it would be a long while yet before they could be certain such severe chakra exhaustion hadn’t caused long term damage. There was a reason that Academy students and genin were usually so closely supervised while they worked with nin- and genjutsu.

Just another reason Kakashi should never have been given a team of children.

Sakura glanced towards Kakashi as she hopped out of the hospital bed, and then declined the wheelchair. Gentle cajoling met her decision, the med-nin doing his best to convince Sakura to sit. She allowed him tacit monitoring of her vital signs while she moved around, but nothing further. For just a second, for the span between heartbeats, Kakashi found himself considering changing his policy on the matter. It was clearly his example that made her so stubborn.

A notion he rejected, of course, but the thought itself lingered all the same.

Far less obstinate than her peers, Hinata graciously accepted the crutch she was given and settled into a wheelchair of her own. She wouldn’t need the crutch for too much longer, but it was still important to keep as much strain off her hip as possible.

The med-nin who had been talking with Sakura came over to Kakashi to take back the paperwork, looking harried. A spiteful curl of pride made itself known in Kakashi’s chest. “Nothing too rigorous with either of them for another week,” he said, an imperious note in his voice. “Hinata can walk around on her own after that, but make sure you give her some physical therapy exercises to do.” A pause, while the two of them looked eye to eye, and then the med-nin frowned slightly. “I assume you know how to do that, but bring her by the clinic if not.”

Safe enough an assumption to make, not just with Kakashi specifically but with all jōnin, and there was a faint flicker of irritation that he’d felt the need to add an amendment – but Kakashi pushed it away, because it was the proper course of action regardless of who he was. Instead, he nodded slightly. “I know.”

The med-nin sighed. “Alright. Those orders go for you as well, got it?” And…  _ maybe _ the warning tone was warranted. No matter how painfully aware Kakashi was that any bad example he set right now would be taken up by his genin, he hardly had a sparkling track record.

But he still rolled his eye. When the med-nin took a breath to scold his (not unfairly) expected dismissal, Kakashi waved a hand to silence him. “I’ve got it,” he acknowledged the order. Brown eyes narrowed at him, and it was clear that the med-nin didn’t buy it, but Kakashi put on a smile to forestall anything further. He made sure this one showed through his mask – the med-nin were not nearly so gormless as to be fooled by an insincere eye-smile.

It didn’t seem to convince the med-nin regardless, but he sighed again instead of pursuing it. “Just don’t do anything stupid. You won’t just hurt  _ yourself _ if you end up back here so quickly.” Voice low. Maybe he  _ had _ treated Kakashi in the past, and Kakashi just wasn’t recognising him. Either that or his reputation amongst the staff was even fiercer than he thought.

Which wouldn’t be all that surprising, actually.

Smile dropped entirely, Kakashi met the med-nin’s gaze with steel in his own. “I’m aware.” Cold. For a moment, they just stared at each other, and then the med-nin nodded and hummed quietly.

“Good.”

And he turned away, went back over to Sakura to escort her to the hospital entrance, a reassuring and soft expression sliding onto his face as easily as an Anbu mask. Sakura managed an uneasy smile in response, so fleeting it was likely reflexive, and kept one hand on Ūhei’s head as she followed his lead towards the door. Ūhei stayed close, her shoulder brushing Sakura’s side as they walked, keeping her steady even when Sakura glanced over her shoulder towards Kakashi and Hinata.

Shiba held a similar position at Hinata’s side, paws so close to the wheels that Kakashi worried about her getting run over. It wasn’t the only reason he stepped over, Pakkun and Urushi padding after him, to take over pushing her chair, but it contributed.

Even if he’d been  _ willing _ to let his kunoichi leave his sight, and he wasn’t, the pair of them oozed such tension that he didn’t dare. Finally getting out of this place should be a relief, release from the constant monitoring and such limited movement, but Sakura and Hinata seemed only more and more anxious with every step they took.

Waiting for them, when they reached the exit, were Sakura’s parents.

Harunos Mebuki and Kizashi. Kakashi hadn’t bothered to look deeper into them, half a year ago, when he’d first received his team lineup. Nothing alarming in Sakura’s files, and no cause to research them when he’d delved into the available information on their daughter. He’d neglected to tail her around for a few days, observing, because it had seemed like a waste of what little free time he’d had left. Her teammates were both prominent clan heirs, well-documented already as few genin were, and Kizashi and Mebuki were civilians. It was rare for anything critical to come from the family of civilian-born shinobi.

About as rare as shinobi prodigies.

_ Figures. _

The smile Sakura put on was more believable this time, but there was still a tension in her shoulders and a shimmer in her eyes that betrayed her. “Flower!” came the now-familiar exclamation from Kizashi, who rushed forward and picked her up too quickly for her to protest, forcing her into a koala-hold against him. Ūhei stepped back, moving in closer to Hinata and Shiba, but she stared at them with piercing amber eyes. “How are you feeling?”

It was  _ so convincing. _ Kakashi was a master of manipulation, had out-deceived the best of them, could bluff so well as to make someone question the colour of the sky, and there were barely any traces of the lie. Almost all of it was in Sakura’s reaction, rather than her parents’ delivery. Of the two, Kizashi’s ruse was crafted all but perfectly.

But Mebuki hung back just a fraction too far. Watched on with eyes that on all accounts looked worried, but said not a word. She’d rarely spoken, despite that she’d been just as present as her husband during Sakura’s hospital stay. Her fingers curled just a little too much towards her palms to be relaxed.

Sakura barely looked at her.

“I’m okay,” she murmured back, and she laid her head on Kizashi’s shoulder but the action was slow, stiff. Reluctant. “The med-nin said I just… need to rest for a while longer.” An edge as she relayed their orders. A flicker of her eyes back towards Kakashi.

Mebuki followed her daughter’s glance, a flash of cold suspicion as she gave Kakashi a rapid once-over. It was visible only for a split second, so fast that if he’d been anyone else, Kakashi might have questioned that he’d seen it at all.

But he trusted his senses.

“Of course,” Kizashi said soothingly, running one hand over Sakura’s hair and then settling it on her back, between her shoulder blades. “We’ll just relax when we get home, Flower.” Voice so gentle that Kakashi almost believed it. The man should have been a spy.

He turned to leave, and Sakura watched Kakashi and Hinata over his shoulder, jaw clenched tight. It showed in the slight flare of her nostrils, the way her eyes widened just a little further than normal, in her pinprick pupils. Kizashi stopped, but didn’t look back, as Mebuki finally spoke up.

“How soon is she expected to return to training?” A question asked sternly, a will to fight held tightly in her gaze. If Kakashi had been naive, it might have passed for the concern about Sakura’s recovery that Mebuki was trying to frame it as.

But he wasn’t naive, and he heard the real question loud and clear.  _ How long do we have her back for? _ How long would Sakura be trapped with them, how long until they couldn’t protest her absence again? It took every scrap of Kakashi’s frayed self-control to arrest the urge to snatch Sakura out of Kizashi’s arms. In spite of himself, his voice came out snarled. “Tomorrow.” And then, whiplash fast, as visible objection darkened Mebuki’s face, he added, “Theory lessons.”

Better to keep his conversation with them short. Even if he managed to clear his emotions from his face, his voice, his posture, they’d already slipped out. People as cunning as the Harunos wouldn’t have missed them.

Relief shone bright in Sakura’s eyes, where her parents couldn’t currently see.

Mebuki glared at him with naked anger, but Kizashi put his free hand on her elbow and, when she turned her attention to him, shook his head. A scowl settled on her features, but she turned on her heel and walked away. “Apologies, Hatake-san,” Kizashi tossed hurriedly over his shoulder, and then broke into a brisk pace to catch up with his wife. Sakura didn’t look away until the three of them rounded a corner and were lost to him.

Kakashi’s temper rose under his skin faster than he could check it, hot and blinding. His blood ran  _ molten _ in his veins. Each breath came ragged, a heat that passed through his lips so intensely it made him want to tear his mask off.

It wasn’t intentional – he barely felt himself taking the steps necessary to bring him level with the wall of the hospital – but before he could process what he was doing, Kakashi felt the surge of his own chakra and pain broke open in his knuckles. His senses buzzed with wrathful static, but he heard, ever so clearly, the tiny, terrified squeak behind him.

Like the crack of thunder, rage billowed out into profound shame.

Even as he pulled back from the wall and tried not to see the hairline cracks he’d left behind, part of his mind was already calculating damage control. He was lucky to have used the hand not already injured, and that he’d moulded enough chakra into the punch to protect the delicate bones in his hand. He needed breaks in both of them as much as he needed a Chidori to the chest. Bruised knuckles and split skin, but nothing worse.

Not that it mattered much. The damage he had to worry about wasn’t physical – frozen in place ever since Sakura’s parents caught sight of them, Hinata sat stiff and quivering in her wheelchair, watching him with wide, fearful eyes. Shiba and Ūhei pressed close on either side of her, and Ūhei was murmuring reassurances while Shiba licked Hinata’s arm, but it didn’t seem to allay her fright. She looked ready to bolt.

_ Fuck. You  _ **_idiot._ **

It was harder than it should be, taking a slow breath and trying to ignore the unpleasant tingle in his wrist where he’d reinforced it with chakra he shouldn’t be moulding at all yet, let alone so aggressively. He was a fucking halfwit. If he let himself get so angry over one kunoichi that he made the other afraid of him, then what was even the fucking point?

His exhale shuddered, but he followed it with another inhale and took a few steps closer. Hinata didn’t flee, not yet, but she leaned back and tightened her grip in Shiba’s scruffy little mane.

Halting, Kakashi lifted his hands slightly, and then slowly lowered himself to one knee. Hinata’s gaze followed him, and a thread of confusion broke through the fear. It was probably still subconscious, but it was much harder to be afraid of someone who was kneeling instead of looming over her. She blinked.

“... I’m sorry, Hinata.” Both harder and easier than it should be, to utter the words. She swallowed hard, blinked again, took a trembling breath. “I’m not angry with you.” Address the immediate concern first. Explanations could wait until later – until Kakashi had a chance to spin something believable that wasn’t the truth. It should be Sakura’s choice, if and when to tell her teammates.

Her voice shook as much as her body. “I… I’m sorry.” Automatic. Kakashi was prepared for the wave of rage, this time, so he gritted his teeth and forced it back. It should be no child’s first instinct to apologise for existing in the presence of someone else’s anger.

Another slow exhale, and Kakashi felt Pakkun put a steadying paw on his calf. Urushi licked his hand and grumbled, very quietly, at the taste of blood. “You don’t need to apologise. It’s not you I’m angry with.” He tried, he really did, to keep his voice steady. Calm, even. There was still anger in it despite that, his words clipped, but at least it wasn’t betraying him. At least he hadn’t bothered trying to claim not to be angry at all. It would be a wasted lie in any case, given he’d  _ punched a wall _ in front of her, but he was still glad he hadn’t tried to sell it.

_ Fuck me. _ It had been a long time since he’d lost control like this in front of someone. Let alone a genin. Let alone  _ his _ genin. Of all the stupid, harebrained reactions to have—

“Is it… Is it because of Sakura…?” Hinata’s voice was barely a whisper, but it cut clean through Kakashi’s thoughts like a scalpel.

Steadier now, but as firm as he could without being harsh, Kakashi shook his head and said, “I’m not angry with her, either.” Which was the truth, however close it skirted. The fear was easing from Hinata’s face, now, with easier breath and relaxing jaw. She let the dogs nudge her chair forward, just a little, before closing her hand around the wheel rim. Kakashi stayed where he was.

Her fingers wove together, anxiety betrayed by small movements, less noticeable than biting her lip. Easy to hide in her lap, if she had been sitting at a desk or table instead of in a wheelchair. “I meant…” She paused. Was it  _ so obvious _ that something was wrong with Sakura’s relationship with her parents that Hinata had noticed it? Kakashi wanted to deny it, argue that it couldn’t be obvious, that Hinata was just exceptionally insightful, because it had taken six months and a prolonged hospital stay for him to notice. Because Sasuke seemingly never had, because Itachi had never mentioned the possibility. Sakura had hidden it so well that no one had even suspected; it would have been in her record if anyone had.

But it  _ had _ been obvious, this past week. Harder to hide such things, when it was impossible to interact behind closed doors. A façade like that could pass muster in short bursts, for one or two days in the continuous presence of an outsider, but it broke down when tested longer than that. Fear of punishment later only controlled fear of pain  _ now _ for so long.

Despite himself, Kakashi ran a hand through his hair. “You don’t need to worry about Sakura.” Slight movement, and then he rose to his feet when it didn’t elicit a negative response. Hinata watched him, but it was with something much sharper than fear. Other platitudes rose in Kakashi’s throat, reminders of how the responsibility for the team lay on his shoulders, not hers, a reassurance that she’d done nothing wrong. Too heavy to force across his tongue, so he stood in silence, but they clamoured all the same. Choked him.

Glancing away, it was Hinata who changed the subject. Her gaze went to the spot on the wall that bore Kakashi’s rage, and he tried not to think about that. “I… Um, I don’t think… that anyone will come to get me, so…” So? So she should walk home alone? Wounded?

Absolutely fucking  _ not _ .

Kakashi hummed a negative. “I’ll walk you.” It had been the plan all along anyway. If Hinata had been an adult shinobi, she’d have been discharged several days ago; it was only at Kakashi’s request that she’d been held until he and Sakura were discharged. He’d fully expected that Mebuki and Kizashi would be there to take their daughter the moment she set foot outside, and he’d obviously been right about that – but he’d also expected that Hinata would be left by her clan to fend for herself.

As angry as that made him, it was at least a problem easily resolved. Offering her a hand, Kakashi helped Hinata out of her chair and to her feet, holding her weight until she got the crutch in place. He left the wheelchair where it was; the med-nin could fetch it themselves.

He let Hinata set the pace at which they walked. It didn’t matter how slow it was, or that the restlessness of prolonged inactivity fizzed under his skin relentlessly. However long it took, Kakashi would walk her home without rushing her.

Eventually, timid but at least not so afraid as not to speak, Hinata glanced up and murmured, “Sensei?” Kakashi didn’t glance down from their path, fending off the gaze of those around them with a narrow glare, but he hummed acknowledgement. “You told Sakura’s parents that we were meeting for training tomorrow.”

Not a question, not really, but it was implicit in her confusion. Kakashi sighed.

“I did.”

“… I thought we weren’t going back until Monday?”

Which was three days away. And it was what he’d told them all the day before, when it had come up. A long weekend to spend recovering and resting, the chance to unwind in private, to start trying to process the disaster their mission had become away from each other’s eyes.

But Sakura couldn’t be left that long alone with her parents. She’d been  _ so relieved _ when he’d said they were expected tomorrow instead.

It was already obvious to Hinata that Kakashi was distressed over the situation – he’d  _ made _ it obvious – so he let himself card a hand through his hair again. “We were. I think you’d all benefit from not taking such a long break between lessons. Learning a language is difficult, even a non-verbal one.” Not even close to the real reason, but not a lie either.

They walked in silence the rest of the way to the Hyuuga compound. Kakashi stopped at its gate, contemplating whether or not he wanted to risk going inside them with Hinata. He was far from  _ afraid _ of the Hyuuga patriarch, but it might be more trouble than it was worth to trespass so freely. Especially if Hiashi tried to set up yet another godforsaken romantic engagement to ‘combine their clans’.

In practice, if Kakashi was ever interested in such politics – and he ardently was not – it would be a case of the Hyuuga clan assimilating everything to the Hatake name, including the Council vote he hadn’t exercised in years. As a founding clan, the Hatake inheritance was a far cry from small, but Kakashi was its sole inheritor.

He shook his head free of such thoughts, resolved to go with Hinata right up to her door regardless. He had years of experience dodging such nonsense, and Hinata needed (and deserved) every reassurance he could give.

She beat him to it. Cleared her throat softly, and spoke up. “Thank you for walking me, Sensei.” Quiet, but there was an unfamiliar warmth in her voice. “I will see you tomorrow. Where are we meeting?”

It took a beat for Kakashi to rearrange his thoughts, but he gave a slow nod to buy himself that time. “In the public library.” As safe a place as any, unlikely to harbour interruptions. More importantly, it was inside out of the winter cold and rarely attracted an excess of people. “Lessons start at nine, but you don’t have to attend if you don’t feel able. Your first mandatory lesson is still on Monday.”

A decision he’d made as they’d walked. All the reasons he’d wanted to give them time still applied, it was simply that in Sakura’s case, waiting was the greater of two evils. Hinata and Sasuke were of course welcome to attend if they wished, because Kakashi wasn’t going to  _ fake _ a lesson, but it was unfair to require it of them. Hinata blinked up at him in surprise.

“Take Shiba,” he intoned before she could question him. Another startled blink. “She’s going to keep an eye on you in my place. Ensure that you don’t do anything you’re not supposed to yet.”

And he said it mildly, as if she were a brat who would get into mischief left unattended, but her eyes widened and then turned downwards to the ninken in question.  _ Good. _ Clever, shrewd kunoichi he had. She’d understood that Shiba was protection – a presence that Hiashi couldn’t argue, when it was at Kakashi’s command, and one that was not afraid to use that authority to reject any task Hinata might be given, should she feel it necessary.

Hopefully Shiba’s company alone would be enough to deter Hiashi or any of the other Hyuuga elders from telling Hinata to break the med-nin’s orders, but she had teeth and chakra to back it up if it was not.

For the first time today, Hinata smiled at him, albeit very small. “Thank you, Kakashi-sensei. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Mm.”

He waited at the gate while she went inside. Watched her limp across the grounds with Shiba at her side until she, too, was out of sight. Only then did he tip his head back to sigh and turn away. For a minute, while he began walking and struggled to suppress the desire to go and speak to Rin and Obito, the three ninken still with him kept their silence. They exchanged glances, silent communication conveyed through ears and tail and muzzle, and then Ūhei trotted up close and lifted her head.

“Boss, I—”

Without breaking stride, Kakashi nodded and gestured his acquiescence. “Go. Keep an eye on her. Let her know where to be tomorrow; after that, don’t get caught.”

Ūhei nodded, flicked her ears in farewell to Pakkun and Urushi, and then took off like a silent arrow. In moments, she was gone.

Urushi growled softly, discontent in the way their tail hung low and twitched side to side, ears twisted back slightly to better hear in all directions. Kakashi would send them to inform Sasuke of the new lesson plan once he’d reported back to Tsunade; for now, he couldn’t bring himself to lose their company. On Kakashi’s other side, Pakkun shot them a look and then skipped a few steps of his own to draw level with Urushi, half-jogging on smaller paws and shorter legs.

“I don’t like it,” Urushi said, each word bitten out from between their teeth. “I don’t like any of it.”

Pakkun’s chakra sparked briefly, and then Kakashi felt him climb up his side, to settle on his shoulder. The warm weight was too comforting to reprimand him. “Good call to have Shiba go with Hinata.” Neither Kakashi nor Urushi replied, even when Pakkun’s silence stretched on a few more seconds. There was a  _ but _ in his voice so clear that they knew better than to try. “... But we can’t be on babysitting duty indefinitely, Kakashi. We’re not contracted to your pups.”

Even faster than Kakashi could, Urushi rumbled and shook themself. “They’re not his pups. Not  _ really.” _ But there was uncertainty in their voice, even as they expressed the sentiment. Strictly speaking, they were right – but unless something else catastrophic happened soon, Kakashi was pretty sure it didn’t matter anymore. It was too late to detach himself.

How had it gotten this bad, without him even noticing? When the hell had the little buggers gotten so deep under his skin?

“Hm… I know it’s a blood contract and all, but it ain’t just about that. There’s plenty of precedents.” That was enough to garner a glance, Pakkun stating it so assuredly. Kakashi believed him, of course, but it was the first he was hearing of it. By the way Urushi frowned, shutting their mouth and very slightly licking their lips, they hadn’t known either. Not that it was entirely surprising that Pakkun knew more than they did – he’d already been an adult when Kakashi had first contracted him, all those years ago.

Cocking their head, Urushi contemplated that. “… So… it doesn’t matter, then? That they’re not Hatakes?”

This time, Kakashi spoke first. “Enough. We’ll discuss it later.” The conversation was a distraction. A maybe-temporary hope that he couldn’t afford to hold onto until he knew it could be trusted. Right now, they had more important things to do.

Like give a complete report to Tsunade.

Thank the gods the dogs were still with him.

* * *

That first report, given verbally by Sasuke while his whole team lay unconscious around them, brief and unstructured, missing key pieces of information, had been devastating enough. Even without the language to offer an officially recorded version, let alone the authority, even as halting and stumbling and reluctant as Sasuke had given it.

This one, spoken in a quiet monotone for ten whole minutes and supplemented by an extensive written report that Shizune skimmed through in ever-growing horror, was worse.

Tsunade kept silent while Kakashi spoke and, standing off to the side of her desk opposite Shizune, Uchiha Itachi did also. She’d already known that it was bad – incredibly bad – but she hadn’t quite realised the extent when she’d granted Itachi’s request to be present for this report. Maybe it wouldn’t have made a difference if she had, given that Kakashi had expressed no objection to him, but just how rapidly everything went to shit made her reconsider not consulting Kakashi beforehand.

Neither she nor Itachi let their reactions show on their faces through the report, waiting for the complete picture before forming a response, but by the time Kakashi finished, Shizune was sitting on the end of Tsunade’s desk with her head tilted forward, jaw clenched and fingers digging painfully into the wood. Kakashi tacitly ignored her, but Tsunade made a mental note to check in with her once the jōnin were dismissed.

For a minute or two, they all simply thought to themselves. Kakashi’s two ninken stuck close, Pakkun perched on Kakashi’s shoulder like a bird and Urushi sat practically on Kakashi’s foot. Urushi had less control than their elder, a hint of fang showing behind faintly parted lips, but even Pakkun had his mouth closed, too upset to relax into panting.

Finally, Itachi broke the seal on the silence. “Will we contact Kirigakure about this, Tsunade-sama?” Perfectly level, neither a suggestion nor a warning. As was his place in the hierarchy, of course, but Tsunade had never cared overmuch for propriety.

That said, it would be prudent. Momochi Zabuza wasn’t officially in Kiri’s employment, not anymore, but they’d been awfully slow about recognising him as a missing-nin, and even slower about offering even a token attempt to reign him in. Such an egregious offence as this couldn’t be overlooked, not for either village. Tsunade sighed, rubbing her face. “I suppose we’ll have to.” Kiri had long since lacked even an echo of honour, or human decency, but it was still outrageous to have attacked mere genin so viciously, unprovoked.

“And Tazuna?”

Kakashi asked it calmly, even  _ mildly, _ but there glittered in his eye a black rage the likes of which Tsunade hadn’t seen in him since her appointment to Hokage. Suddenly, just for a moment, Tsunade regretted listening to Gai’s advice in assigning him a team. It was a  _ good _ thing, for Kakashi to be able to bond with new people, to try and offset the damage he’d suffered throughout his tenure in the Anbu – as a shinobi at all – but this had always been the associated risk of it. That he would get so attached as to act beyond reason.

Tsunade couldn’t even blame him, in this instance. Any client lying to Konoha, to  _ any _ Hidden Village, was something that they would punish swiftly and severely. When the contracts people took with her more often than not endangered her shinobi’s lives, it was absolutely imperative that she had an accurate understanding of each and every one of them. Both her contracts and her shinobi. Mistakes in ranking missions, or assigning them to specific units, were how Tsunade got her people killed. Even lies that turned out to be harmless were met with harsh and – often – bloody consequences. For something so profoundly dangerous as this, even with the  _ miracle _ that was Team Seven’s collective survival, Konoha was considered well within its rights to have the man murdered.

Judging by the look on Kakashi’s face, he’d be more than happy to carry out that sentence himself.

But the details… all the little details made it difficult to muster the will to let him. There was no forgiveness to be had for how much danger Tazuna had put Konoha’s genin in –  _ children, _ and a sin committed  _ knowingly _ when Tazuna had allowed Team Seven to leave Konoha’s gates with him – but the circumstances were… somewhat extraordinary. There was no small merit to be found in a tiny city state’s resistance to an economic tyrant, no small bravery in getting to Konoha to even buy a contract from them despite how perilous a task it was.

No small selfish stupidity in lying about it.

Sometimes Tsunade hated being capable of empathy. It would be so much easier to simply hate the man for what he’d done, or to be able to choose righteous fury as Kakashi had done. Instead, she was faced with the impossible duty of deciding Konoha’s response, and having the heart to try and be impartial with her choice.

She was going to be unpopular, when this got out, if she chose anything less than death.

Setting her hands on her desk, Tsunade scowled. “I haven’t decided, yet. You’re welcome to offer your thoughts. All of you.”

“Execution.”

He didn’t even hesitate.

This time, Tsunade pinched the bridge of her nose, wishing she was even slightly surprised. “Duly noted. Anyone else want to share?” Maybe too scathing, when Kakashi’s approach was entirely reasonable, but there would be enough pressure on her to make that decision even without the actual jōnin involved pushing for it. In her heart, Tsunade prayed that Kakashi wouldn’t be vocal about it amongst his peers. It would be all but out of her hands if he was. She was the Hokage, and the ultimate authority fell to her, but her position was not one of dictatorship; she had to be swayed by vocal majorities in her shinobi.

If she did Konoha wrong, even as its leader –  _ especially _ as its leader – Konoha was not above assassinating her.

Tsunade refused to walk the same fascist path as her predecessor.

Frowning, Itachi shifted his weight slightly. “At the very least, he must be brought in. We cannot allow people to think such a mission can be mistaken for C-rank.” Reasonable and merciful, reticent to advise bloodshed, as Itachi ever was. Simply backcharging Tazuna for the S-rank he should have paid for was far too insufficient a penalty, but it was the bare minimum that Konoha should demand. No matter what became of Tazuna personally, Waves owed Konoha proper payment – and not just for the S-rank mission, given the contents of Kakashi’s report. Sakura had assassinated the Waves tyrant responsible for the whole situation.

Assassination contracts did not come cheap.

For the first time since entering, Kakashi’s gaze flashed to Itachi. It was bitter and angry. Betrayed. Even Tsunade had to admit, Itachi was showing remarkable restraint considering it had been his brother’s life in peril.

Itachi returned the look, and the briefest ribbon of red wove through his eyes.

_ Hm. _ Not less angry, then – just better at hiding it. As unsurprising as that was, it still seemed strange that he would hold back so thoroughly after what Sasuke had been through. Itachi had almost agreed to slaughter his entire clan in Sasuke’s defence.

Maybe that was the reason, after all. The result of his decision to disobey Danzō’s order had been a storm of blood and violence, had fractured Konoha’s strength and loyalty, but it hadn’t cost Sasuke his life. It hadn’t ended the Uchiha clan or Konoha as they knew it. It hadn’t come with all the dire consequences Danzō had fabricated to manipulate Itachi’s actions. So perhaps that bled through, now, when Sasuke had already survived the ordeal. Tazuna was only one man, not an entire clan, but his death would not be without traumatic consequence in itself. His daughter would survive him.

His grandson.

Or, perhaps worse, they  _ wouldn’t. _

Tsunade wished, a desperate and loathsome hope, that she could divorce herself from those consequences.

She didn’t even try.

Even moreso, she wished for a hard drink.

“Right, putting him aside. What are you going to do with your genin?” Kakashi had logged enough information on the results of their mission for Tsunade to have a solid grasp of the most immediate concerns regarding the genin, of course, but he’d submitted almost nothing on his intentions to try and deal with them. Given his own history, there was a distinct chance he intended to pass on less than healthy coping mechanisms; if he had no plan, or a bad plan, Tsunade needed to know so she could circumvent it. The list of med-nin she knew and had known who were deeply concerned about the way Konoha had treated the mental health of its soldiers was an endless one, but the list of med-nin who’d ever been in a position to  _ change _ policy in Konoha on that front was her, and her alone.

And she had – she’d done so quickly and drastically, and it was to her credit that many of the genin and Academy students didn’t remember a life without recognition of psychological damage, let alone allowances for it. But those improvements had come too late for the generation before them, and so many of her adult shinobi were sunk too deep in the dangerous coping mechanisms they’d been forced to adopt.

Tsunade would skin herself alive before she let Kakashi inflict his own trauma responses onto his genin.

Scowling, the faintest trace of a growl in his voice, Kakashi looked her in the eye. “Theory lessons until they’ve fully recovered.” There was a beat of taut silence. Tsunade narrowed her eyes. “… Stability first,” Kakashi finally continued, the threatening rumble still flowing under his words, averting his gaze. “They can’t process any of it if they don’t feel safe.”

_ Huh. _

Taken aback, Tsunade blinked at him. She hadn’t expected a realistic response, let alone one that showed  _ understanding. _ A second later, her pleasant surprise was swept away by raw frustration. If he understood what was happening in their heads, and what kinds of steps were appropriate to help them with it, then his continued refusal to do anything about his  _ own _ state of mind was deliberate. It meant he knew better, and he still denied any attempt at helping him.

She couldn’t decide if he was brilliant, or fucking stupid.

_ Well, two things can be real. _

“Fine. I’ll leave you to it, then.” No matter what else was happening, she trusted him to work in the best interests of his kids. There was danger in how deeply devoted he already was to them, but there was sanctuary in it too. Since he apparently knew what he was doing, there was no need for Tsunade to micromanage him. “You’re dismissed, both of you,” she said, gesturing towards Itachi. “Tell your genin that I’ll want to speak with them individually in the near future.”

Kakashi’s report was the most important, and necessary for official archiving before Konoha could take any action against Tazuna, but in terms of Sakura, Hinata, and Sasuke’s futures, their own reports would be invaluable. Tsunade needed to know not only the direct effects of their trauma, she needed to know how it was going to impact their abilities and predilections.

Even more important, she needed to keep a close eye on their interactions, especially over the next few months. As dangerous to his genin as Kakashi could potentially become, they posed an equal danger to him. Manipulating Kakashi into forming new bonds with people was crucial to whatever recovery she could trick him into making, but those bonds came with the very real risk of merely repeating his trauma.

Losing them, when he hadn’t wanted to care about them in the first place, would destroy him. And he knew that as well, even if he’d never admit to it – he knew it well enough to be terrified of losing them. Of watching them die. That knowledge alone was enough to make him dangerous. Not just to his genin, but to himself. If he got too paranoid, if things went too wrong, he could easily start holding onto them so tightly in an effort to protect them that he became, himself, the threat.

As if that wasn’t already a possibility.  _ Damn it. _ Kakashi had asked for the mission in the first place to try and teach Hinata to have more confidence in herself. Having successful missions under their belts always helped genin believe they could succeed in future ones, and Hinata was particularly in need of that. Tsunade had granted the mission to prove to Kakashi that he could relax for one goddamn second, so he had tangible evidence that he didn’t need to keep them close enough to strangle to keep them safe.

A nice, easy C-rank.

What a resounding fucking success that had been. Now, thanks to a  _ nice, easy C-rank, _ both of those goals had been not just failed but failed so miserably that they were even more needed, and infinitely harder to accomplish.  _ Now _ his team was in substantial danger of fracturing; not only with Hinata’s  _ and _ Kakashi’s confidence in themselves crushed, but with Sasuke barely on speaking terms with most of his teammates, and Sakura freshly-blooded from her first kills.

Managing the immediate fallout of that was vital, yes, and she was going to have to keep as much of an oversight on them as she dared while they all worked through it, but what came after could be worse. When Kakashi’s rage exhausted itself. When Sakura’s shellshock passed, when ignoring his team was no longer tenable for Sasuke to keep doing, when Hinata next faced being relied upon. Whatever they were doing  _ now _ would only be temporary, and it was the permanent effects that Tsunade needed to understand.

Not understanding how her shinobi functioned was how she got them killed.

In silence, she watched Kakashi and Itachi leave, aware that they were whispering to each other as the door closed behind them, and then she turned to Shizune. Black eyes shimmered with both tears and fury. For a long moment, neither of them said anything.

“Well?” Tsunade finally asked. “What do you think I should do about Tazuna?” As if it were a simple question. As if there weren’t layers upon layers of implications underneath.  _ As if _ she was really just asking about a fucking bridge-builder from the Land of Waves.

Even if she had to seriously consider the popular consensus when she chose a path, it was Shizune’s opinion that mattered to her the most. Shizune was a gentle creature, but she was capable and wise. Her kindness rarely wavered in the face of tough decisions, but it was never the sole contributor to Shizune’s choices.

Another pause stretched thin between them, Shizune’s grip on the edge of Tsunade’s desk growing ever tighter. Her knuckles were ghostly white. Glittering, a single tear spilled from her eyes and streaked down her cheek, settled translucent on her lips. It smeared to nothing, when Shizune spoke.

“I think we should kill him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things and Notes and Betcha Thought I was Gonna say Stuff:  
> || Well, I've not figured out a way to integrate this into the actual storytelling (I missed my cleanest chance by not covering any of Itachi's lessons on chakra sensing with Sakura and Sasuke, I think) so I'll say it here: I've decided to work with a sort of dual capability of sensing chakra signatures. The way I've already used egregiously, with the chakra echolocation (chakralocation?), and a second method that is much more passive but doesn't usually pick up specifics and has very small range.  
> || Basically, I'm saying that Kakashi (and other elites or sensory specialists) can ambiently sense unmasked chakra signatures in their immediate proximity, and the fluctuations and changes in them. Hence why Kakashi can sense Sakura's chakra while not actively hunting for signatures.  
> Was that convoluted? Yes. It's too late now though, this is what we're doing, WHEEEEEE. Think of it like passive perception versus active perception rolls in DnD and other such games.  
> || I don’t know if I’ve made it clear or not throughout the story, so just in case: Kakashi, as Sakura, Sasuke, and Hinata’s jōnin-sensei, is _legally_ responsible for them in the eyes of Konoha. Their parents, of course, still have guardianship rights but when it comes to shinobi training and shinobi-related incidents, Kakashi now has primary care of them.  
> || On Shiba: Xoloitzcuintli dogs are hairless, for the most part, but some (all?) of them have a little mane on their necks. Think mane like a horse, not mane like a lion.
> 
> I know everyone is desperate to see Sakura admit her time travelling to the rest of the team.  
>  _Good._  
>  :)
> 
> Next Chapter Due: **22nd January 2021**


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